Sarah vs The Reconquista
by Whiskeyflips
Summary: Set between "Chuck vs The Other Guy" and "Chuck vs. The Honeymooners" A mostly fluffy narrative of Chuck and Sarah adjusting to their new and wonderful roles in each other's lives. Despite an intense start, and a few dark memories, it's mostly laughter, reminiscing, light -hearted regrets, teasing and other couply things. Ultimately Charah. Rated M for sexuality and some violence.
1. Casey vs The Ponts

_A/N: The main motivation here is to fill in some of the missing moments in between "Chuck vs. The Other Guy" and "Chuck vs. The Honeymooners". We're going to start out at a nice tame T- Rating for the beginning, but yes, we will be getting a bit more explicit as things go on._

_Inspired far more by the "Before Sunrise/Sunset/Midnight" trilogy then any real action packed episode of Chuck, this will be mostly be a catalog of our favorite spy couple exploring the very beginning of their romantic relationship together, and adjusting to a few of the incidental privileges and responsibilities of boyfriend and girlfriend. There'll be jokes and laughter and secrets and surprises, a revelation or two, and yes some hanky-panky … followed by pillow talk (Chuck's a chatterbox, doncha know!). Don't bother with being on the lookout for a villain to spoil our spy-couple's fun this time._

_Sarah (and possibly Chuck) will also mentally revisit some of her recent past actions and experiences, so if you're lethally allergic to Sarah/Bryce or Sarah/Shaw some of these chapters might not be to your taste. To be sure, they weren't my favorites either- but IMHO, a true love will blow away the experiences of any previous "un-true" loves. As awesome as Charah is (and trust me folks, I'm a huge Charah fan) it appreciates even more when placed in the context of Brarah, (does that portmanteau work? It should.) Sham, and Chill._

_Be patient for the title drop., if you please._

_Our little story begins with a familiar scene from another perspective. Enjoy. And if you enjoyed, review!_

_Oh, and I don't own Chuck. Or a Sig Saur P229. More of a Colt fan. I don't own Paris either, although a nifty travel book was useful in mapping out some of these scenes._

**Chapter 1 – Casey vs _The Ponts_**

John Casey only had a moment of triumph before enduring some of the most horrifying minutes of his life. The Director, the highest known member of The Ring was now in custody; his unconscious form slumped in a pile of Parisian garbage. His hands were bound in the cuffs that Casey and Chuck had brought with them from Burbank. The Director's late bodyguards were destined for a local mortuary.

"Don't you go running off now", he grinned at the sleeping scumbag, He only allowed himself a moment of self-congratulations – as now his task was check in on Bartowski and Walker. Up the street he noticed the café – the one Chuck had predicted that Walker and Daniel Shaw would be at. Arriving at a quick sprint, he looked around in dismay. Upset chairs, displaced napkins, scattered silverware – obviously a recent struggle. But no Bartowski. No Walker. No Daniel Shaw.

The most important and desperate mission in Casey's and Bartowski's career was in fact, a rogue one. Walker was in serious danger, but having cried "wolf" once before, Bartowski's credibility was at an all-time low with General Beckman. Casey, not even with the NSA anymore, had no credibility at all. Neither had any sanction from Uncle Sam to rescue Walker. No sanction from General Beckman meant no CIA/NSA equipment. Casey and Chuck didn't have their communication watches to keep in touch. Casey's SigSaur and handcuffs were the limits of their official technical support.

But working at a BuyMore had its advantages. From his jacket pocket, Casey drew his improvised com system – a commercial walkie-talkie from a 2-pack that he and Bartowski had snagged from the electronics store in Burbank. Completely unofficial, unencrypted, unlinked to Castle or Beckman, and unsophisticated, it was also well worth its weight in gold. With a range of two miles, it would allow him to keep in touch with Bartowski.

Casey brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth, and clicked the transmit button,…

…When three gunshots ripped through the night air. They were medium-distant, and out of sight. They came from the direction of the Seine River-near the Notre Dame Bridge. _The Frogs call 'bridges" "ponts" for some damn reason_, Casey thought.

"Bartowski! Come in! Do you hear me?" Casey yelled into the walkie. Nothing, not even static came in response. Casey groaned. _Turn your radio on, you fucking idiot!_ He charged down the Parisian street, towards the _Pont Du Notre Dame_, furious to go into a situation with no intel on what was happening, or who was where. In about a minute's time, he was within sight of the river, but still had no idea where the shots had come from.

He tried the walkie-talkie again "Chuck! Damn it, where are you?!"

This time, there was static, and a voice shrieked over the air waves. Everything about the voice was wrong – so wrong that Casey wondered if it was Chuck at all. _"__**CASEY! CASEY! SARAH NEEDS HELP! WE'RE ON THE BRIDGE! CASEY! I NEED HELP! WE'RE ON THE BRIDGE! SARAH NEEDS HELP**__! _The shriek was unearthly and frightening, and caused Casey to suck in his breath at the sound of it. It wasn't the yelping, high pitched, alarmed voice of Chuck that he'd gotten used to by now. It was something altogether different – it was from a place beyond fear, a place beyond panic – it was the frantic, almost feral sound of someone who was just about to lose their mind with terror and shock. _People don't scream in real life like they do in the movies. Hollywood will never give you the sound of somebody who just watched his buddy's head get blown off. Or the sound of a woman calling 911 when her kid stops breathing. Nobody would ever go to a movie again if they had to hear that shit._ Casey knew.

Dozens of scenarios flew through Casey's head, all of them awful. There had been three gunshots. Was Chuck hit? Was Sarah? Were they about to be taken? Were they dying? _Where the fuck are you, Chuck? _Another press of the transmit button. "Chuck! WHAT BRIDGE? Find A sign and tell me what bridge!" _Shaw, I'm going to fucking kill you tonight. If you shot either of them, I will gag the god damn life out of your god damn throat. I'll feel that windpipe crush under my thumbs, and I'll watch you die, I swear to God I will. _

"CASEY!... Casey, we're at the foot of the _Pont- Saint Michel_! …. We're okay….. But we need you… get here quick….." Chuck was hyperventilating, but even so his voice was calming down a little bit, Casey could tell. _What the hell's going on?_

Casey was at the foot of the _Pont-Notre Dame_, and a helpfully posted tourist map of the City told him that _Pont-Saint Michel_ was one bridge downstream. "Hang on Chuck! I'll be there in less than a minute!" Casey charged to the next bridge, and caught sight of Chuck and Sarah staggering down the roadway, clinging to the railings of the _Pont Saint Michel_. Ever so slowly the two stumbled along the side. Sarah Walker was obviously incapacitated, and Bartowski did not seem to be doing much better.

Casey sprinted the last few dozen yards to the bridge, his Sig Sauer P229 drawn. He arrived at the struggling pair, concerned for their status while simultaneously scanning for threats. "Walker! Bartowski! Are you hit? Are you clear? Answer me God damn it!" Casey threw a glance behind them. No sign of Daniel Shaw or any type of pursuit from the bridge.

"We're okay … we're okay … he's gone … Casey, Sarah's been drugged" Chuck's words came out in shocked gasps. He was hyperventilating. His face was ashen and pale, and his eyes were wide, and darted around everywhere to Casey, to the street behind him, the buildings with open windows, and back to the limp and immobile Sarah.

Holstering his P229, Casey said "put her down, Sit her down right here" He checked out Sarah. She was wearing a red overcoat, which Casey promptly unbuttoned, checking her suit jacket and blouse for entry wounds or blood. None. He then sent two fingers up to her carotid artery, verifying a pulse. There was. Sarah had just enough power to turn her head and look into his face. A new tear stole down her cheek,-it was obvious that she had been crying- and her lips quivered slightly, but she said nothing. "Walker! Can you hear me?" Casey barked at her. Sarah gave the barest of nods.

"They drugged, her. …. Some sort of toxin, "Chuck gasped.

Casey then turned his attention to Chuck "How about you? You hit?" Chuck didn't respond and Casey repeated his check for entry wounds on Chuck's torso. No. "Bartowski! Look at me!" Chuck turned his stare to Casey. The sight of his wide eyes made Casey's blood run cold. _Yup, that's what shock looks like_. "Chuck, I heard gunshots. Three of them. What happened?"

"Shaw…. He drugged Sarah…. He tried to kill Sarah …and I shot him. … He's dead… He went over the side." Chuck's hand covered his eyes and he sat down next to Sarah. "Oh, God."

"_You_ shot _him_?" Casey asked in some mild surprise.

"Yeah." Chuck's breath was ragged, "He was going to push Sarah into the water … She can't move, Casey … she can't swim… he wanted to kill her. … I didn't want to shoot. I tried to arrest him… I swear, Casey. I swear." Chuck sniffed.

_The kid's close to crying,_ Casey knew, even if a surge of relief shot through him. _Those were good-guy bullets I heard … and they ended up in the bad guy_. "I believe, you! I believe you. You did what you had to."

"I told him to give up … he said I wouldn't shoot him …. He tried to push Sarah over …. He pointed his gun at me… and I shot" Chuck babbled.

"I got it. I hear you. You did good." Casey reassured.

Respect was something that John Casey did not give out quickly or easily, and God knew that Chuck had taken a long time to earn even a modicum of it from him. Chuck was whiney, often petulant, could be immature and emotional, and was a sucker for any pretty girl who gave him the time of day. His pathetic puppy love for Sarah had irked him from day one, and Casey never missed an opportunity to mock him for it. Chuck also had a hard time wrestling with the sticky moral questions that were inherent to the spy world, and seemed to want to pretend that they didn't exist. Chuck was nobody's idea of a field agent, and for these last few years, the intelligence organs of the government had been lamenting the day he ever got The Intersect.

Still, for all that, Chuck had a history of delivering the goods. He was clever, imaginative and his mind moved fast. He was honest. In his own quiet way, he was patriotic; willing to suffer stress, inconvenience, danger and heartache for the good of millions of people who would never know his name. He'd never get a parade, or any statue in any park, and was genuinely surprised a year ago to get a payout of any kind. Chuck's was a life of constant threats of kidnapping, torture, and violent, gruesome death, and typically Chuck's idea of a reward was a "well done" from General Beckman, a grunt of acknowledgement from Casey, and if he was lucky, a sweet warm smile from Walker.

_Walker_. Both Chuck's strength and weakness put together in one toned, tall blonde agent. Perhaps that wasn't really fair. Sarah Walker was just the most recent of a few people in Chuck's life that inspired Chuck's undying loyalty. His sister Ellie did, and so did her husband Devon. Maybe one or two of the Buy Morons, like Morgan Grimes. And yes himself too, Casey had to admit. For these people, Chuck had a sense of self-sacrifice that would make the hardest Marine sob with sentimentality. He'd proven himself ready to wreck his career, or to confront certain death for these few, and for these few seemed to go into the lion's den with a song in his heart. Chuck might not be the type who would survive military basic training, but if he had made it, he would be the type who charged a machine gun nest or fell on a live explosive in order to save someone else, especially someone he really liked.

It was hard not to get annoyed by Chuck. But it was _impossible_ not to like him.

Chuck's breathing was returning to normal, now he had the shakes. His hands were trembling, and he roughly shifted his gaze from Casey to Walker. A compassionate kind of guy, killing people didn't come naturally to him. It didn't come naturally to a lot of people. This was probably going to go down as bad night for Chuck Bartowski.

Casey finally noticed something about Sarah. Sticking out of the back shoulder of her overcoat was a dart. He plucked it out carefully. "Chuck. Look at this." Casey tried to read the medicinal label on it, but couldn't sound out the complex looking word. Had Walker been poisoned? Did she need a hospital? Casey would rather get in and out of Paris without any major medical stays. He turned to Chuck, who hadn't heard what he said.

"Chuck, I need to know if Walker's going to make it! What is this?" Casey held up the dart "Damn it, Bartowski, Sarah needs you to tell her what this is."

At the mention of Sarah's name, Chuck snapped his head at Casey's hand. He looked at the spent dart, and flashed. His eyes rolled back, his eyelids fluttered, and he gasped three times. When he snapped out of it, he spoke in a tranquil, steady voice. "_Quadrodotoxin 212. A modified nerve agent from the extremely potent Tetrodotoxin. Causes temporary loss of all voluntary muscular control in its victims, with some short term memory impairment possible. Effects last from 10 to 18 hours. Recommended treatment is hydration and bed rest."_

Casey grunted an acknowledgement. "Okay. Chuck I'm going to get the car. We're going to the hotel" Casey dashed of back towards the café, maybe a half mile or so distant.

Five minutes later, the he pulled alongside the bridge in the rental car. As he got there, he saw that Walker was still sitting slumped against the bridge wall. Chuck was on all fours a few feet away from her, panting hard. A puddle of vomit was below him.

"Making friends with Pukey the Clown, huh? Don't worry. It happens. Sorry I missed it." Casey said as he got out of the car. Reaching into the car, he pulled out a water bottle. He walked up to Chuck and tapped his shoulder with it. "Here. Rinse out." Chuck gratefully accepted. "Now help me get Walker into the car. She gets shotgun." Casey got her shoulders and lifted, and Chuck got her feet. The two men then maneuvered Sarah into the passenger seat. Chuck wordlessly got into the rear seat passenger side, and noticed the silent and manacled figure sitting behind Casey. Too tired to speak, Chuck simply looked wordlessly at Casey.

"Bartowski, this guy is known as The Director. He took a bump on the head, and lost a few key employees tonight. So he's having a bad night. His old bodyguards had a _really_ bad night, like Shaw did. You might not feel it yet, champ, but you, me and Walker – we're actually having a pretty good night"

Chuck had actually met him before in the elevator at the Ring compound a day and a half ago, but wasn't up to remembering names and faces at the present time.

"Oi, I know you. " The Director affably mumbled in his Cockney accent. "The elevator lad." Noting Chuck's disarray ,"Wut's gotten into him?"

Next to him, Chuck clung to his water bottle for dear life, and remained silent.

"He just fed your boy Shaw to the eels of the Seine" Casey snarled from the driver's seat.

The Director regarded Chuck. "Looks a bit worse for wear, yeah? First time gettin' it wet, boy? Y'not gonna spew all over me, are ya lad?"

"Shut it. Do it now. Y'see, you don't really have a friend in this car, Mr. Director. You and Shaw tried to kill Walker here. That makes you really unpopular in this car. I'm her partner. I like to kill people who try to kill my partners. Kind of a credo of mine. Walker's good at the killing too. She will be again when she snaps out of it. And our boy Chuck here … well let's just say he's a beginner at the wet work, but he shows some remarkable talent. Walker's his lady, you see." Casey glowered at The Director. "And that makes me the least of your problems – and I can be a very big problem. So unless you want the gendarmes to find two bodies in the Seine tomorrow morning, I suggest you shut your face. "

Leaving the Director chagrined and chained in the back of the car, Casey and Chuck were able to get Sarah up to the hotel. Stripping her down to her underthings, the two men gingerly lay the unconscious Sarah in the bed.

"Water and rest, huh?" Casey asked, showing Chuck the tranq dart again.

Chuck, by now slightly recuperated, willingly took it so he could flash on it once more. His eyes flew wide, his lids fluttered, and he gasped. _. "Quadrodotoxin 212. A modified nerve agent from the extremely potent Tetrodotoxin. Causes temporary loss of all voluntary muscular control in its victims, with some short term memory impairment possible. Effects last from 12 to 18 hours. Recommended treatment is hydration and bed rest." _

"Yeah, yeah. Heard you the first time." Turning to the stricken Sarah, he growled, "Hear that Walker, stay comfy, and you'll do fine."

"Wait! wait", Chuck said. Digging in his suitcase, he produced a white long sleeve shirt. Cradling Sarah gently, he maneuvered the sleeves onto her arms, and buttoned up the shirt. "She'll get cold."

Casey couldn't resist a grin. "Bartowski, you finally get Walker into bed, and your first instinct is to put clothes _on_ her?"

Chuck looked up, and for the first time in hours, cracked a smile. John Casey had landed a dry wisecrack with pinpoint accuracy. As Chuck nestled Sarah's head onto her pillow, he chuckled. "Well, yeah. I guess."

"And I think our girl's coming around. She's blushing." Sarah was indeed flushing a little, although her eyes were all she could move, drifting slowly and lazily from one man to the other.

Chuck scurried to Sarah's side and whispered into her ear. "Sarah, you've been drugged, and you're probably going to be out of it for a half day or so. But don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. You just sleep." Chuck kissed Sarah's forehead.

Moving around the room, he maneuvered a big heavy chair to the foot of Sarah's bed, where he could watch and guard.

Now that Chuck was a bit more coherent, and Sarah out of danger, it was Casey's time to find out what had just happened. He grabbed his own chair, and sat across from Chuck. "So, Bartowski. Want to tell me what all happened? Take your time, I got all day. The Director sure as hell isn't going anywhere without me."

Chuck took a few deep breaths. "Okay. While you got the Director and his guys, I went after Shaw. He had Sarah drugged. He was talking to her at the café. He didn't notice me as the waiter until I had the drop on him. I kind of think that Sarah gave me away. She looked at me."

"Bet she was glad to see you." Casey allowed. "Go on."

"He sensed I was behind him. He asked how I found him. He told me to just go ahead and kill him – to shoot him in the back right then and there. That's about the time you found the Director and his guys."

"He dared you to shoot him in the back. Mmmmmm." Casey growled. "Ballsy".

"I couldn't do it Casey. I told him he was under arrest. He stood up real fast and grappled with me. I flashed and accessed Eskrima – a knife fighting martial art. We fought, but he got me. Knocked the wind out of me. Then he grabbed Sarah, grabbed her gun, and told me not to follow them. But I did. I recovered my own gun, and caught up to them at the bridge. Shaw was about to push her in. I pointed my gun at him, told him to surrender again. He said that he could pull the trigger but I that couldn't. He pointed his gun at me, and I shot him. He went over and came close to pulling in Sarah, but I got to her and kept her on the bridge. Then I called you."

Casey nodded. "Good. You did good."

"I didn't have any choice. Shaw was gonna kill her."

"Damn straight you didn't." Casey said. "Look, Shaw made his choice. And he thought that just because you're not a natural trigger-puller, it meant that you'd do nothing while he killed Walker. That was a bad choice on his part. A pretty huge fucking mistake, it turns out. He's dead now. Walker's alive. You're alive. And that's the way it should be."

Casey sucked in a breath "Look Bartowski. I've seen people get their first kills in before. It's usually nasty business. Not a fun ride. A real bad day, you know? Some guys take having to do it in stride. Other guys don't. There's no way to tell who's who until it happens. Most guys need some time with it. If you go for a few weeks, and you get a lot of nightmares, and things like that, let me know. There are a few guys who specialize in PTSD that the NSA/ CIA and the Corps use. They help some guys get through it. But for today, know this: You did what you had to do. Shaw wanted Walker dead. He wanted to give you, me, Beckman, everybody a world without Walker. I don't want that, Beckman doesn't want that. I know you don't want that. You stopped that from happening, and you stopped it the only way possible. You looked out for your team. You looked out for Walker. You did us all proud Chuck."

Chuck sighed. "Thanks Casey". He looked over at the now sleeping Sarah. "You know, a few days ago when Sarah thought I killed someone on my Red Test, she didn't want to talk to me. She could barely even look at me. I wonder what she'll say to this."

Casey grunted. "Huh. Well my bet is that she'll say 'thank you'." A sly grin. "What she says and does next is none of my business. Make sure you two keep it that way when you get back. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to turn the Ring Director into my ticket back onto the team. Tell Walker we're rooting for her."

"Thanks Casey."

Casey left the hotel, and trotted back to the rental car. The Director was in his proper place, behind the driver seat.

"Looked like your lad isn't one to play with the real men." he leered.

"And _your_ lad? Playing with who? That's right- the crabs on the river bottom." Casey challenged. The Director responded with a shrug. "And by the way," Casey continued. "I told you to shut up". He reared back his hand, and struck the Director with the ball of it. He immediately slumped over, unconscious. "So shut up." _God damn power-hungry swine. Thinking that killing people is what makes a real man. Way more than half of the word's problems are caused by that attitude._ He readied his laptop to make a connection with General Beckman's office.


	2. Chuck vs Fatigue

**A/N:** _I know I risk the ire of my fellow Charah fans for daring to suggest that the sweet, romantic ending to "Chuck vs. The Other Guy" might not have led directly into the beginning of an ideal love scene! Still, I think it's very Chuck-like to allow a little reality to inject itself into the proceedings … especially when it's inconvenient. I also like the idea of letting Sarah try out her wings as a compassionate, supportive girlfriend a little earlier than planned._

_I plan on addressing the concept of Sarah and Chuck's "professional boundaries" in later chapters._

* * *

**Chapter 2- Chuck vs Fatigue**

Chuck felt guilty about leaving Sarah alone, even for a minute, but didn't want to reek of sweat and vomit when she woke up. He hopped in the shower, and within a swift ten minutes he was dressed in a brown button down shirt, black jeans and his Converse Chuck Taylors.

He sat at his chair, cracked open his laptop, and composed his report to General Beckman. The gory details of The Shaw Incident took the rest of the night for him to outline. Chuck had to stifle yawns… He made use of the coffee machine … But after much tedious work, his documents were ready, and attached to an e-mail that he sent to Washington.

Dawn broke with the promise of a lovely clear day, and his e-mail chirped.

_ Bartowski – Looks like I'm back in. Complete with new Crown Vic. Leaving by military transport with Director. See you in Burbank. Again, good work. And thanks. Casey_

_Well that's some good news_, Chuck thought. More good news moaned softly from the bed. Sarah was beginning to stir. She weakly sat up into a low slouch, her head resting against the headboard.

Chuck popped up from his chair, and gingerly made his way to his awakening lady. "Hey," he said. "How are you feeling?" He sat by Sarah's legs and stretching over them, sat the computer down on the left side of the bed, opposite her.

"Mmmm" … Sarah mumbled, slowly taking in her surroundings and Chuck's face. "Hmm, What happened?"

Chuck had reiterated the story three times by now – twice to Casey, and just now in a written report to Beckman. His mind was simply too spent to bring out the details again. He simply gave a fatigued "Everything's okay now."

"What about Shaw?""

"He's dead." Chuck tried to rally up some sympathy for how Sarah might receive this news. Mere days ago, Shaw had been her lover – mere hours ago, Shaw had still been a respected agent and ally. Only very recently had the full extent of his treachery been revealed. Chuck doubted he'd have many lasting regrets over killing Shaw, but causing Sarah pain without trying to soften the blow was unthinkable. "I'm sorry"

Sarah's face fell serious as she struggled to assemble the pieces she could remember. "Oh my God. We … There was … There was a café … and there was a bridge and he tried to kill me and … Oh my God – you shot him!" Sarah's eyes flew wide in horror, her mouth slightly agape.

Perhaps if Chuck hadn't been so fatigued, he'd have been able to interpret Sarah's look correctly – a reflection of fear, concern, and relief – all for him and nobody else. But Chuck panicked, fearful that the woman he loved was again looking at him as a frighteningly cold-blooded creature that she had helped create and was now disgusted by. Exhausted, his voice fracturing, and near tears, he croaked out "I couldn't let him hurt you, Sarah. Trust me; I did what I had to do! But I'm still the same guy. I'm still Chuck. I promise."

The panic in his voice was evident to Sarah, as was the fearful look with which he gazed upon her – terrified of, yet willing to accept her judgment and opinion of him. Certainly not for the first time, and most definitely not for the last, Sarah Walker stared into the eyes of Chuck Bartowski and fell in love. Her blue eyes flashed warmly, and an adoring smile spread across her face. "You saved me." From her relatively awkward slouch, she rose and leaned forward to claim his lips with hers. The eagerness in her eyes suggested that she was springing at him as quickly as she could, but her drowsiness was hindering her.

It mattered little. In the moment their lips met, images raced through Chuck's mind – not altogether unlike one of his flashes, but infinitely more pleasurable. … Of Sarah and he at the Los Angeles docks, what was assumed to be a bomb ticking away their final seconds in this life, she desperately grabbing his head for their first kiss… Of Roan Montgomery demanding that they kiss as a part of his seduction mentorship … of the humid morning in Barstow with the hotel with the broken air conditioner where she woke up in his arms, with her eyes glowing with pent up desire … and of her on his kitchen floor less than two days ago, telling him that she had fallen for him within a day of their laying eyes on each other. … Now, here, in _Paris_ no less, her hands were cupping his head, pulling him in for another kiss.

The two separated and regarded each other. Sarah gazed at him with two levels of reassurance - Firstly that Chuck could put to rest any fears of her thinking less of him for what he did on the _Pont Saint Michel -_ Andsecondly, that, despite appearances, she was not feeling like any kind of invalid or recuperate, and that she was regarding him with legitimate sexual hunger – a hunger that, Chuck being Chuck, he might be tempted to ignore or resist for fear of taking advantage of her in her weakened state.

Chuck's sigh and grin of relief practically lit up the already bright bedroom. Sarah's hand again flew to Chuck's neck and she brought herself over for another kiss. Chuck now cupped her head, as their kissing intensified Sarah cracked open her mouth in the slightest to allow her tongue to caress Chuck's lips …

The computer next to them made three horrifying chirps, signifying an incoming communique from Beckman. Neither the fire alarm going off, nor a salvo of machine gun fire coming through the window could have possibly been less welcome than this. Chuck quickly disengaged from Sarah and sat on the bed, feigning innocence. Sarah simply slumped a little in frustration.

"Chuck, Sarah…" Brigadier General Diane Beckman's face filled the screen. If she was suspicious or flabbergasted at seeing Chuck and Sarah in what was-and probably looked like – an intimate moment, she didn't show it. "Excellent work. I've consulted with Colonel Casey, and he's brought me up to speed. I'll expect a full report when you get back to Burbank".

Both Sarah and Chuck were successful in suppressing their laughter at this, but not their smiles. The very notion that they would be able to abandon this city … this room … this bed … each other, was not even frustrating, not even insulting, -it was just comical.

Chuck drummed up what little officious respect for Beckman's general's stars he could muster and addressed Beckman politely. "Actually, General I think we're going to need a few more days in Paris." Sarah flashed him a tight-lipped, impish grin that seemed to say _At least!_

"No, I want you back ASAP. We have another mission" The general curtly dismissed. "Last night a team of Peruvian Assassins broke into …"

At the word "no," Chuck sighed and cocked his head at the computer while he looked at Sarah in disbelief. _The nerve of this general! Not only did she trust Daniel Shaw to go out into the field with you, she then touted Shaw as a consummate professional, sneering that it's something I'm not. Then when that spectacularly and predictably backfired, and Casey and I salvaged it, this harpy has the gall to simply chirp "Excellent Work!" and deny us so much as a few days off!_

Sarah took in Chuck's look with a glance, and flashed another grin of mischievous impudence. Not even waiting for Beckman to finish her thought, she simply grasped the computer and turned it away from them.

Beckman's voice warbled in frustration from the computer "Agent Bartowski? Agent Walker?" To some hapless technical support nabob, she demanded "I've lost contact! Get them back"

Always eager to make Sarah laugh, Chuck was about to make some wisecrack about how the Pentagon should probably call one of Buy More's Nerd Herders, when Sarah's grin intensified, and with her hand, she closed the computer, shutting off Beckman's angry voice.

Chuck had never seen Sarah so gleefully insubordinate. Not sure what say, he began "I don't …

Amused and eager for herself to be the sum total of Chuck's thoughts for the next few hours, she said "Shut up and kiss me."

To her delight Chuck hungrily complied. As their lips met again, a gasp of joy escaped from her throat – in a chaste, poetic sense they'd been lovers for two and a half years. From the day they had met, it had been clear that he had been instantly smitten with her. It took far longer for Sarah to confess that her attraction to him began at the very same time. Had they been a typical couple they'd have flirted, dated, and in due time secluded themselves away at the end of a successful date to … as Chuck's brother in law put it … "seal the deal".

But the very reasons why their paths had even crossed at all were the same reasons why they –until now-couldn't be together. He had been a precious government asset. She had been his bodyguard. She needed to know everything about him. He could know nothing about her. Her official mission had involved using him for his abilities; his duty had usually involved meekly putting his trust in her and Casey. The power differential between the two was so obvious that government had actually gone to the trouble of manufacturing rules for it. For her to sleep with him would be an obscene abuse on her part. It was not only unprofessional; it was all but criminal, for the same reasons why doctors were barred from sleeping with their patients, and jailors from their prisoners. So Chuck thought, at least.

So, no matter how often their minds dwelled on each other, how badly their hearts yearned to beat in rhythm, how desperately their bodies yearned to fuse, they'd respected their boundaries that Sarah's and now Chuck's duties had imposed on them – until recently. Until now.

Sarah's hands continued to cup Chuck's head, while his hands slid down to her back, steadying her as she slumped down in the bed. His kisses plastered her face as he hovered over her, putting his weight on his knees, but not yet laying on her.

Familiar, comfortable warmth started between her legs, only slightly warm for now. She knew that almost anything Chuck did in the next few minutes would feed it, cause it to grow into an all-consuming conflagration that could only end with them exhausted and sated.

Sarah's head found her pillow, and she allowed her hand to trace the features of Chuck's face as his broke his kiss, and pulled back to admire her smile, her eyes, her silken hair. His huge grin was gone, replaced by a stare of concentration and slight concern. His brown eyes seemed flaked with gold as the searched her face any sign of reluctance or uncertainty.

"Sarah, I know we're kind of a new couple … well kind of … well, you know what I mean - we're kind of an unusual couple and I wanted you to know that we can go however slow you want with this… I mean …" Chuck stammered out.

Sarah was greatly amused. She smiled broadly, and silenced Chuck by putting her fingertips up to his mouth. Her grin stretched practically from ear to ear. This was _her_ _Chuck_ alright – so considerate, yet slightly unsure of himself – and horrified at the idea of acting like a lascivious swine of a man, knowing that attractive women like Sarah had to contend with such unwanted attention every day- and making it clear that he'd never pressure her for sex. Sarah neither knew nor really wanted to know right now how many women Chuck had slept with in his entire life … but she was now certain that every single one of them heard words to this effect from him on the day they decided to sleep with him.

How to respond to him? Wordless aggression? Gentle reassurance? Sarcasm? Sarah was leaning towards a little bit of playful sarcasm _(Oh, thank you Chuck, will you take me on a real date today? Maybe a movie? I haven't seen _Shutter Island_ yet! Has it been released in Paris yet? We could share a large popcorn!)_ when her feverishly aroused mind came up with the perfect response.

"Chuck…", she said with a smile as she pushed hard on his right shoulder. Chuck rolled over onto his back onto the other side of the bed, not releasing his hold on Sarah, but bringing her with him … just as she planned. She was now on top, sat up, straddled him, and gazed down into those brown-gold eyes of his "… Don't freak out."

Chuck laughed a little at her – and then groaned loudly – and not really in a way that suggested sexual pleasure. Rather it was the sighing moan of someone who's been working all day finally lying down in bed, rejoicing as their back muscles relaxed. "Why Agent Walker," he mumbled " … you've been giving me that instruction since the day we met".

Sarah beamed down at him from her upright straddling position, "That's _Girlfriend_ Walker to you, _Boyfriend_ Bartowski. And I think I'm going to have at least two or three …" she allowed a look of feigned surprise to cross her face "No! Four! At least four more instructions for you in the next hour or so" She leaned down towards him to kiss his lips and purr into his ear. "So if I were you,…" She reared back up to the sitting position "I'd start paying very _very_ careful attention …" her right hand slowly came up to the top button on her borrowed shirt "… starting right now."

Sarah watched for his eyes to glaze over in lust – to watch his gentlemanly respect and restraint give liberty to his raw unfiltered sexuality. She had seen that look in Barstow – wanted so badly to see it on a train pulling out of Prague – Spent months trying to forget it – and now desired its return more than anything in the world. She smiled as she unhooked her first button, supremely confident that Chuck's amorous eyes would cloud over.

Chuck's eyes squeezed shut … and then he yawned, loudly and long.

Sarah cocked her head to the side quizzically. She decided to tease him ever so slightly. "Maybe … I'm not quite as exciting as I gave myself credit for."

Chuck's eyes snapped open in horror as he realized how inappropriate a yawn was at a time like this "No! No! Not at all! God, I'm so sorry! Sarah, you're beautiful, and I want this more than anything in the world! There's nothing in the world more exci - -" But another yawn welled up from his chest, and he was powerless to stop it. Still gamely fighting off fatigue, Chuck sat up in the bed, with Sarah facing him on his lap. He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her hard. Sarah met the kiss, and embraced him for a what should have been a steamy make-out session – but even as he opened his mouth to allow her tongue, a third yawn threaten to escape, and he had to turn his head to the side to avoid yawning into Sarah's face.

At the look of confusion that came across Chuck's face, Sarah couldn't help bursting out laughing. Chuck, however clearly didn't find it funny at all, and his pained expression inspired a wave of compassion to overtake Sarah. She again cupped his head in her hands and kissed him softly. "Tell me something; darling … are you… hard for me right now?"

Chuck sighed. "No … not yet". He groaned in confusion and horror … but then another yawn overtook him.

"Sweetheart … _when's the last time you've slept?_"

"Ummmm …. Oh, I don't …. Hmm" Chuck struggled.

"Were you up all night watching me?"

"Pretty much – I mean I had to e-mail Beckman about last night, and I put some coffee on, and I might have dozed off a little bit, yeah, I was pretty much up all night." And yet another yawn.

"Okay," Sarah grinned "And before our fight with Shaw? …Well actually _your_ fight, I wasn't that much help … you flew out here from Burbank. Sweetie that was a 13 hour flight! Did you sleep on the plane?"

"No, not at all – I was going over Shaw's files, looking for some kind of pattern. Then Casey and I came up with our plan in the last few hours before we landed at DeGualle." The causes of Chuck's fatigue were beginning to dawn on him. "Oh, wow- and I wasn't even sleeping before we took off either. Once I found out that Shaw had gone bad and that you were in trouble, we caught the next flight. Before that there was that thing with you me and Shaw in the elevator shaft… and that was right after you found me in my drunken stupor… Oh wow… it's been awhile."

Sarah tenderly stroked his face, and kissed him very lightly "Chuck, I know we've wanted this for two and half years,- and please don't think for a second that I don't want it as badly as you do- but behind sleep and food, sex is the third thing you need. Not the first. In your current state, you are _not_ ready to witness the power of my fully armed and operational libido." Sarah allowed a wicked, teasing smile as she gazed into his eyes.

"Wow… my gorgeous girlfriend just slipped a _Return of the Jedi_ reference into a discussion about sex. I really am a lucky guy." Chuck grinned weakly.

"What can I say? My nerdy boyfriend made me watch it with him a few years ago. And you'll be getting luckier later today … a lot luckier. We both will be, and … _Oh, my God!_" Something clearly dawned on her. Sarah clutched the top button of her borrowed white shirt, and looked down the front of it, examining her own body. "Oh, no. Oh, no, no no no no. Absolutely not".

"What's wrong?"

"First of all, I haven't had a shower in about a day. Yuck. Second of all, I'm in my absolute worst bra and panties combo." She quickly dismounted Chuck and slid off of the bed, and looked around for her suitcase. "Chuck, I love the fact that our first time's going to be in Paris, and I love the fact that it's going to be in this bed." Another seductive, wicked grin "Or maybe the floor, and maybe that chair, and maybe one of these walls – but If I let you touch me like this for our first time, I know I'm going to regret it until the day I die!"

"Oh, Sarah, honey – you're beautiful!" Chuck protested – but again he couldn't help yawning.

"And you're exhausted!" Sarah remained firm. She regarded him as he finished his yawn – a particularly long one this time, and slowly came up to him, walking alongside the bed and pushing him back down upon it. "Tell you what. I'll make you a little bet. I'm going to take a shower. You're going to lie down in this bed and eagerly await me – at least as best as you can. I'll bet that you'll be fast asleep by the time that I get out. If I'm right, and I find you asleep, we'll make love as soon as you're awake… If I'm wrong, and you can hold on for me, why then, we'll just have to make love right away." She bent over him to kiss him tenderly on his lips. "So you see, there really are no ways to lose here."

"Okay, Sarah. You win." Chuck sighed, admitting defeat.

"Now you stay there. And Chuck, loose the shoes."

As Chuck sat back up to divest himself of his Converse sneakers, Sarah hunted down her rolling suitcase. Knowing she'd have to change in the bathroom, she decided to simply roll the whole case in with her. Chuck watched her disappear behind the bathroom door with a sigh.


	3. Sarah vs The Loofah

**A/N:** _For an 8:00 family show on NBC, Chuck was fueled to a large degree on sex appeal, toeing the line very carefully for its timeslot. When attempting to get my friends interested in the show, I compare Chuck to Star Trek – It's often very "sexy", but usually not very "sexual" … meaning that there are plenty of shots of women in bikinis, cocktail dresses and lingerie, a few shots of Devon and Shaw shirtless … but very little of The Act itself. The most explicit scene we ever see is in fact between Chuck and Jill (grimace). _

_ If I were ever to go for my PhD in pop culture icons (there's a college out there that hands out such useless degrees, isn't there? It would look so good on my wall.), my thesis would be on the character Sarah Walker, who pulls off the neat trick of having each foot firmly planted in two camps that usually have nothing to do with each other. Sarah Walker manages to be both a fairly strong feminist icon, and a stereotypical male fan boy's sexual wish fulfilment. _

_ On the one hand, she's a very strong independent woman. A career woman, even – when introduced, she's much more successful at her career in the CIA then Chuck is in his own field. She commands the respect of her superiors, and the obedience of subordinates. She barks commands and expects to be obeyed. She lays out the rules of survival for Chuck and is almost always right about them. She's exceptionally good at her job, and her job matters. It saves lives. She believably gender flips the typical action story role, with herself as the combat warrior/protector, defending Chuck as the valuable asset/brain with near-zero survival or combat skills. This is all done without a hint of condescension – the first episode makes it plain the Chuck is prone to freaking out when bullets fly and car chases are imminent, while Sarah readily kicks ass._

_ At the same time, she's a male fantasy incarnate. The most beautiful woman who owns whatever room she walks into, Sarah promptly falls seriously in love with our hero … an underachieving, borderline slacker with confidence issues about … everything. Money, job, women … you name it, Chuck doesn't have it figured out yet. What DOES Chuck have going for him? He's a decent guy. People like him. He treats other people well. In Sarah's world such men are a rarity, and that makes Chuck special to her._

* * *

**Chapter 3- Sarah vs The Loofah**

It had only been twelve hours. In that time, Sarah's mood had violently -and delightfully - swung from the putrid black depths of the most horrible despair to a giddy anticipation unlike anything she'd ever experienced. The dread and hopelessness she had felt at the café and on the _Pont Saint Michel_ had been driven away decisively – dropped into the frigid Seine as surely as Shaw had been. The future was a tableau of bright unknowns, some of them no doubt unpleasant, others possibly even dangerous, but all of them inspiring confidence and enthusiasm. There was only one thing she knew for sure about the foreseeable future – she'd be spending it with Chuck. His love, his devotion were the only things that a spy like herself could be certain of in this almost constantly uncertain world. Whatever it was that she did, she wanted Chuck next to her…

_ … And beneath me …on top of me …behind me …sitting face to face with me_…. Sarah couldn't keep from smiling to herself, and she could only barely keep from squealing with delight as she twisted on the shower full blast – steamy hot, with just a small twist of cold to keep from scalding herself to death. She quickly stripped off her borrowed white shirt, then the by- now disgusting bra and panties. After rummaging in her suitcase briefly she produced her traveling shower kit. Thus armed she hopped into the stall, which was already starting to steam over.

Her loofah was lathered up, and she first bought it up to her nose, and let the soft scent of vanilla bring yet another smile to her face. Chuck would probably like this. To be sure, Chuck was probably an easy lover to please … but she'd leave nothing to chance in treating him today … and for any and all nights to come. Sarah let her mind wander about, as the vanilla scented loofah made its grand tour of the sites that Chuck had spent the last two and a half years only admiring with his eyes. Sarah wasn't sure whether she should be self-reproachful or not, but Chuck's lustful-yet-respectful eyes had been among the highlights of her Operation Bartowski assignment, sometimes the only things that made this often frightening, and almost always sexually frustrating assignment bearable.

Sarah knew that she was physically beautiful- she casually accepted this as a matter of fact. When most men called her "beautiful", she was no more impressed with the compliment then a fighter pilot would have been when someone called his supersonic jet "fast", or an architect would have been when his skyscraper was described as "tall". What most people, including Chuck, would describe as "beauty" was a carefully engineered, expensively enabled, dutifully maintained, and often used piece of equipment -a piece of equipment that was intended to get results – and got them.

When the CIA had brought a train car filled with Broadway-trained hair stylists and makeup artists down from New York to make her and her female classmates over and teach them the various looks between "sultry" and "wholesome" their paints and their potions could be used to achieve, the concept of "beauty" began to lose many of its poetic and romantic qualities. Yes, when they had professional athletic trainers teach her how to sculpt the muscles in her body, teaching her the difference between bulking and toning up, … when they had expert nutritionists dictate to her the diets with which she could maintain her magnificent body, … when the Agency had brought in a second train car of fashion consultants from New York to introduce them to the top dress labels, and swimsuit types with which they could drape themselves,… "Beauty" was no longer a complimentary word for awkward, lust-struck males like Chuck or Morgan to stammer out at them, or an enjoyable commodity for smooth talking fellow spies like Bryce Larkin or Cole Barker to purr at them – it was a trusty, reliable tool. It was a master key that granted access to a world guarded and locked up by mostly heterosexual males, many of whom didn't want the US government having access to them, but greatly enjoyed an athletic, almost-six-foot blonde woman gazing at them with interest. "Beauty" was a tried and true piece of government equipage. Sarah, and a few of her other female agents similarly trained, clipped, waxed, quaffed, sculpted, and dressed were weaponized sexuality.

Of course, Sarah Walker was skilled and effective CIA officer even without her fine looks. She was a lethal martial artist, a qualified -if not expert- shot with her S&W 5906, a better-then-competent investigator and interrogator, and a successful handler – indeed, she and Casey practically pioneers, she the only CIA officer to handle a human Intersect. Sexuality was only one of several useful tools and talents at her disposal.

And yet it was a tool, one that she was well trained to use, and one that had hardly ever let her down … until the CIA told her to point it at Chuck Bartowski– to treat him as a suspected criminal and traitor, to flirt and tease him into revealing the status of the intersect. In a much subtler and much more chaste way, she'd continue to use her sexuality to calm and relax Chuck, becoming a steady humanizing face for an inhumanly cruel and peculiar duty he had to cope with.

But the day she targeted Chuck with a mild dose of her sexuality –nothing more overt or sleazy than her pretty smile and batting eyes - was the day the countdown to this hotel room began. Her once trusty weapon malfunctioned. Misfired. Ricocheted and seriously wounded its operator.

Chuck had had one countermeasure to the effects of Sarah's beauty, one that she hadn't expected to encounter, and one that he probably didn't even know he had in him. His innocence. His normalcy.

Chuck of course would never describe himself as "immune" to Sarah's womanly charms. Sarah knew that. But Chuck's good nature and kindness was, in its own sweet way, devastating to Sarah's ability to use her face and body, and Chuck's appreciation of them, against him. Chuck had completely disarmed her of what had once been a reliable implement. It was a most peculiar sort of sabotage.

Like most operatives, Sarah had quite early come to terms with the idea of using men's lust to her own advantage. Not only was she at peace with it, everyone she worked with was at peace with it. It's simply the way the game was played. Any character flaw -any weakness that a drug runner, money launderer, human trafficker, illegal arms dealer, information broker or traitor displayed - was 100% fair game to exploit. Just like greed, pride and wrath, lust was simply a deadly sin that the villains of the world were often guilty of, and a thus a pathway that the opposition could use to defeat them.

Of course, in order to train someone in the use of a weapon, it is assumed that the unlucky bastard on the receiving end of it will deserve the damage he's about to receive. When karate students train, they picture fending off a violent unprovoked attacker. … When cops train with their guns, they picture a bank robber or kidnapper shooting at them, or coming at them with a knife. … When air force pilots train, they picture dropping bombs on weapons factories and enemy air bases. …

… When Sarah had trained at the CIA and went through the Infiltration and Inducement of _Enemy_ Personnel curriculum, she had pictured the word "Enemy" always being used to describe her targets. It wasn't emotionally hard to use sexuality to take advantage of and then betray an arms dealer, or a human trafficker. Such a man was about to have the blood of many red upon his hands, and besides would soon be facing a long stay in federal prison –_if_ he was smart enough to surrender when demanded to. For such a man having his cruel heart broken or his ego bruised by a honey trap's betrayal should be among the least of his concerns. It was certainly the very least of Sarah's.

But her light use of her beauty to charm her way into Chuck's life had had a shattering impact upon her. Here was no sleazy information broker, no greedy arms dealer. He was an unremarkable, unassuming daily wage earner at an electronics store. He joked with his friends; he helped his customers on the phone. He fixed her cell phone with a simple quiet expertise, and a slight goofy grin. He was plainly distracted by her good looks, but never lecherous or sleazy with his stares. She saw his big heart go out to a distraught father who had ruined his daughter's ballet recital, and with imagination, resourcefulness, and quick thinking, managed to save the day by using the theater room.

As she made her way back to her car that afternoon, she had been bewildered. _Is this the man who's sitting on a cache of government secrets? Is this the man who has plans to make millions by selling them on the black market? This one doesn't seem to have any plans at all besides video games with the short bearded guy! I don't know about this guy, Director Graham_.

Her date with him the following night only had made it all the worse for her. He had joked, he had made small talk. He had told stories about his unique, yet normal sounding family. He had made no bones about the fact that he lived with his sister and her awesome sounding boyfriend. It was clear that they were close. He had looked at her eyes and smiled the entire time, and had never allowed his glance to drop below her chin. He told her that she should not allow an entire city to fall into the custody of her ex-boyfriend "Bruce", that she should reclaim it for her own. He taught her the word "_Reconquista_!" His golden-brown eyes had been sincere, warm. She had grinned and smiled under those eyes, and very few of those smiles had been fake. In spite of herself, she had found herself enjoying her date. Had she not been a spy, she would have already been hoping that he call her for a second date. Her libido, which she always kept locked away when with a mark, began to stir ever so slightly.

Unbidden, undisciplined, unprofessional thoughts popped up her mind. _Is this how normal women date? Is this what they feel? Are these the fun things that couples talk about when they don't have to intercept a shipment of sarin gas at the airport in a few hours?_ _He's just smiling at me – he doesn't even look like he's mentally undressing me. He has no idea what he's doing to me! He's a little shy and awkward – he thinks he has no chance. He doesn't, but not for the reasons he thinks. The reasons he thinks are wrong. He deserves to be on a date with a wonderful woman. Not with someone like me. _

By the time he was giving her grief about not having a favorite band, guilt had begun to chew on her. _He probably didn't even open the e-mail. It probably just went to his spam folder. He has no idea. Even if he did have government secrets, he'd have no clue how to sell them… even if he wanted to!_

It had been almost a relief for her to drop her facade and reveal herself as CIA on that rooftop. Despite the impending approach and arrest by Casey and the NSA, she had hated lying to him, and feigning romantic interest in him. She was angry at the circumstances that had brought them here. She had found time to hope that no woman in Chuck's life had treated him as cruelly and falsely as she had just had. He didn't deserve that.

And before the night was over, Chuck had saved her life, Casey's life, and a room full of NATO dignitaries using … the internet porno virus that he had just learned about that day. Chuck was no villain. In fact he wasn't even "innocent", a word that actually means "uninvolved" or "on neither side". Chuck was heroic. He used his heroic qualities every day in mundane situations, and on this night like many nights to come, he used his qualities in extraordinary situations. Chuck, she saw, was about as noble, brave and lovable as men got. The kind of man a good hearted woman should be able to take home..

That night had been a catastrophe for Sarah's conscience. She had felt nauseous as she got back to her hotel room. For the first time, she'd regretted using her seduction skills. She would never be able flirt with Chuck for deceitful purposes ever again. It was far too cruel. For perhaps the first time in Sarah Walker's adult life, she took her own sexuality out of her weapons arsenal -in matters where Chuck was involved at least. Her reasoning was simple, even if she couldn't articulate it at the time. She was falling in love with him, as he was with her, and she wanted to enjoy sex with him as a lover, not as a manipulator. At the time, it couldn't be. She had had no idea when, if ever it could happen between them. But as far as Chuck was concerned, beauty and sexuality would not be weapons or tools to use against him. They'd be used either as enjoyable gifts that she could use to give both of them pleasure, or they would not be used at all.

Now after three years of guilt, miscommunications and roadblocks it was about to happen, all of it.

_Finally!_ Sarah's mind screamed as her loofah scraped past the places that the CIA had weaponized, that Chuck would soon be appreciating with far more than just his eyes. It had been a frustrating obscenity that her professional wall had kept her from consummating with him for all this time. Now the wall was down. It was never coming up again. Sarah now scrubbed up not as a honey trap attempting to seduce a mark, or as a female handler working to inspire her male asset, but simply as a woman preparing to make love to the man in her life. As Sarah preparing to present herself to Chuck.

As she turned and bent and maneuvered to scrub down and rinse every inch, she slipped slightly. She was in no real danger of falling, but her left hand instinctively shot out to the wall to steady herself. The feeling of the hard surface against the palm of her left hand snapped Sarah out of her reverie. Immediately and involuntarily, an uncomfortable and lurid memory of her time with Daniel Shaw flooded through her, like a bad smell through a rose garden. A nasty corkscrew sensation stabbed her at the base of her spine, and twisted all the way up her chord. Her knees closed on each other, and despite the fact that her body was surrounded by steam, she shivered slightly. She sighed softly to herself. _Chuck, sometime in the next few days, I'm going to have you in the shower. As of now, it's an item on my list that I'm going to enjoy crossing off._ … _Reconquista_. Sarah's thoughts returned to undressing and being undressed by Chuck, and her hungry smile quickly found its way back to her face.

Scrubbed and tubbed, Sarah toweled off, and examined what she brought along to Paris in her suitcase. Her face immediately fell. She was woefully unprepared for the several days of passion her mind, body and soul had unanimously decided to schedule.

Her entire reason for being in Paris was phony. Daniel Shaw had told her that The Ring's design facility for the Cipher to the Intersect was in France. She had packed light, as usual. Sarah had at her disposal only three brassieres, an three sets of panties – all of which she considered "utility" – not appropriate for a special occasion as this. _Or put otherwise, boring s_he thought. She had had no reason to believe it was a seduction / "black tie" mission, so she had not toted along half of a department store lingerie section.

_About to sleep with the love of my life, and no lingerie ... _she thought darkly. _Well, Paris is the place to fix that. That'll solve tomorrow's problem. But what about __now__?_

Then she remembered. Her options were limited, but she had not yet scraped the bottom of the barrel. She also had something else. Since a female spy on the go had no idea if she might have to quickly adapt to a cocktail dress or run a makeshift honey trap on a mark, she also had a secret bag in a special compartment. In it was an emergency reserve, of sorts. - A single set of sexy lingerie. This was a black corset and panty set, one which would fit with most strapless evening gowns.

_Ah-Ha!_ Sarah thought as she unzipped the bag. As she did, a chilling sense of déjà vu descended on her. She was always in a certain mood when dipping into this bag – someone, almost always someone bad, wicked, cruel, perverted, or all of the above, needed to be quickly charmed out of their trousers, and normally soon after the details of their nefarious plot, their consciousness, and sometimes their life. This bag was strictly for business- a weapons bag, essentially. She had never opened this bag when she was looking forward to sex. Now that she was – to an extent that she had never been before – her dipping into the bag somehow felt … wrong, as if some sort of line was being crossed. As if using the contents of this bag would regulate Chuck to a mark she was seducing.

She set the corset and panties on the floor, sat on the lidded toilet, and stared at them, debating with herself. The lingerie was certainly attractive and sexy. Sarah knew she looked great in it. Chuck would be thrilled. … _But for how long?_ Her Chuck was both logical and neurotic … and also had a naturally curious mind. He'd wonder where so sexy an outfit came from, and why she had it. And when he asked, she wouldn't want to lie. To be sure, she wasn't ashamed of the truth … but The Truth, she decided was an unpleasant reality of her packing habits that was not going to be welcome in the next few days, she decided.

Sarah let her gaze fall on the thick, luxurious terrycloth bathrobes that were visible in the ajar linen closet. _Problem solved_, She decided. Chuck could see the corset some other time.

Now dried off completely, Sarah wrapped up a towel around her hair. Completely nude otherwise, she snagged one of the thick white robes, and securely tied it around herself. Then she silently crept out of the bathroom.

As she had predicted, Chuck was fast asleep. He lay near the center of the bed, on his left side, facing the window. Sarah smiled and beamed at her slumbering hero. She quietly padded across the bedroom, and slid into bed behind Chuck, on the left side of the bed. Breathing in deeply, she caught the scent of Chuck's freshly washed neck and hair. Sarah gently spooned Chuck, her playing the part of the outside spoon, her arm gently placed around his abdomen.

As if she were appreciating for the last time an article of clothing she was giving away, or an old car that had served its purpose, Sarah said good bye to these last few hours of her chaste, unfulfilled relationship with Chuck. She couldn't regret the road that had brought them to this Parisian bed, even if was long, painful, dangerous and sexless. However dreadful the road, they were finally here together. Chuck was in her arms now, and she was going to see to it that it stayed that way for a good long while.

Soothed by the soft rhythm of Chuck's breathing, Sarah began to feel drowsy again. Just beyond Chuck's sleeping form, the Eiffel Tower was visible in the bedroom window. With her arm around her lover's abdomen, her eyelids fluttered and she began to fall asleep, Gustav Eiffel's tower being the last thing she saw… and one of the first things she'd dream about …

_ Eiffel Tower … Eiffel Tower … 2001… …. 2001 … first mission …Paris … summer in Paris … very warm … easy job… Uncle Bill … Uncle Bill. … Carina … _

_ Guys will let you down, Walker. _


	4. Sarah vs Pierre Bear

_**A/N::**__ Sarah's sleeping, so we'll have to be quiet. Shh._

_Anytime a character on Chuck growls, snarls, or declares that human emotions are a bad thing to have, and that Chuck should lose them for the good of the cause, watch out. That person is going to be proven spectacularly wrong, or revealed to be evil. This particular straw man is one of the more irksome things about the show's writing… the "emotions make you weak" people are either evil or so predictably wrong, that that it's a bit of a wonder that they ever attained a position where their opinions are taken seriously. Diane Beckman's probably the one who takes this to the worst extreme, adopting a "meh" attitude towards the intel that Sarah killed Shaw's wife, but Shaw says he's cool with it, so we must be good. _

_The heroic characters are emotional - they're just the right kind of emotional. Sarah's emotional consideration for Chuck in the earlier seasons is the only thing that makes Operation Bartowski tolerable to it's titular member. Casey gets emotional over a portrait of 40th president! To be sure, SOME emotional detachment must be necessary for a life-and-death job like espionage. Doctors, soldiers, cops, fire fighters have to control and compartmentalize their emotions, as they don't have the luxury of freaking out at things that would make most people freak out, but the whole People Who Do _ Must Have No Emotions card was woefully overplayed in Chuck. I wanted to bring in a character who was a successful spy, but who didn't have this borderline sociopathic view. Meet Uncle Bill, everyone. _

_ I also wanted to demonstrate that if a spy mission ends in a shoot-out, a car chase, or a zip line escape, chances are something went very wrong in the execution. Spy craft is about collecting information and passing it along. For example, who is Pierre Bear going to take pictures of patronizing this boutique?_

_ When did Sarah become a field agent? Even a novice/ junior one? "…Vs. The Cougars" canonically says that she graduated high school in 1998, and was recruited by Graham even before that. (Sarah is recruited the day her dad is arrested, and has to confront the shame of having a jailbird dad while in the last days of school) Some helpful scribe at the NBC webpage, back when the show first aired, hinted that she was recruited out of Harvard, officially. Cute, using the age old trick of giving someone an Ivy League background to say "they're really really smart too!" Since the first season though, more and more gaps were canonically filled in on Sarah's background (CAT Squad in 2003, RedTest in 2005, Two years with Bryce, That Budapest mission in 2007, a year with the Secret Service {some kind of agent exchange program, I guess?}) and the likelihood of her having the time to get a 4 year degree started plummeting. I postulate that she went to Harvard for one or two semesters on the CIA's dime to take courses in political science, geography, world history, psychology, sociology, and whatever civilian classes could lay a good groundwork for a government infiltrator/ assassin/ seductress._

_" ... Vs The Cougars" also conspicuously lacks mention of a high school boyfriend/ex-boyfriend for Sarah and shows that Sarah/Jenny has not yet mastered the arts of hair, makeup, skin care and has a long way to go before becoming the beauty queen we're familiar with. This begs a question I'd normally not want to touch with an eleven foot pole:: Did she graduate high school a sexual virgin? Maybe/ maybe not. This sleazy question has relevance because if she did, that means her entire sexual awakening was under the tutelage of the CIA! That's a train of thought that can get really creepy really fast, so I'd like to stop it there. For the purposes of my story, Sarah went to the CIA, got glamorously beautiful, and caught the attention of a few men, some of whom she dated before meeting Bryce. End of speculation, and no judgement from me._

_I don't own Chuck. Uncle Bill is my idea though. Pierre Bear is my idea too, although I'd be stunned if I'm the first person to ever name a French teddy bear Pierre._

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Sarah vs Pierre Bear**

_ Eiffel Tower … Eiffel Tower … 2001… …. 2001 … first mission …Paris … summer in Paris … very warm … easy job… Uncle Bill … Uncle Bill. … Carina … _

_ Guys will let you down, Walker. _

She's at a Parisian café, gobbling a croissant. Across the table is her first partner, William Franklin, a 50ish, 60sh man. …. Twinkly eyes…. A ready grandfatherly smile. … A reputation… competent … clever senior agent … Got the job done … didn't take unnecessary risks … a sort of unofficial father figure for many a young female agent. Most female agents are badly lacking in strong, supportive men in their lives. William Franklin … Uncle Bill. Happily married … five kids … William Franklin. … a stuffed bear on the table between them..

"Okay, hon. Gotta go". Franklin off the phone. "Hmm? Yes, I'll tell her. Love ya. Bye. Carol says to tell you that if you flirt with me, she'll have your car impounded"

A gulp of orange juice. "And you can tell _her_ that your lovey-dovey phone calls are making your partner sick! Even sicker then I'd be otherwise!" A sigh "You should be here with her. I could get used to having pastries for breakfast every day, but otherwise Paris sucks!"

Feigned shock and faux French accent "Oh, _mademoiselle_, you can mean no such thing about gay _Paris_, the most romantic city in the world!"

A glare from Sarah's blue eyes "Go ahead Bill, poke the she-bear."

"M'dear, I've a daughter a little bit younger then you, and another one who's fifteen. Methinks me knowest boy trouble when I hear it."

A sigh, and a rueful grin. "Yeahhhhhhh, one hit, then a second, then a third, then a _fourth_, all in about four days, and now you and your disgustingly happy marriage, which kind of denies me the right to give up hope on men entirely. You probably don't know it, but it's the cruelest form of torture for girls like me- to be a living example of hope, against a whole list of personal experience that says 'don't hope''"

"Well, what's first?"

"Well, you know Scott?"

"Scott Reynolds? Your year at the Farm"

"Yeah, that one- the one I was with for four months? I was sure it was a good thing. Turns out I wasn't the only good thing he had going on."

"Ugh. Could have warned you about that boy. Not built for monogamy, especially after passing seduction school."

"Yeah well, that's the first part. The second was how I found out. My girlfriend Carina was the most recent notch in his bedpost."

"Carina?"

"DEA girl. Met her dancing in Georgetown one night. We bonded over some creep who grabbed both our asses on the floor. Been like this" two intertwined fingers raised "ever since."

"Your girlfriend slept with your guy? You need to hire new girlfriends".

"No, she didn't know. She didn't find out until the next morning, when I called him- _while_ she was with him. When she found out it was me, she grabbed the phone, and said 'Hi Walker, I think your boyfriend just cheated on you with me. I'm going to kick him in his tiny balls now, because I'm just that good a friend. Guys will let you down, Walker. Wanna go clubbing Friday?' I had to say no because I was coming here."

A laugh and a grin from Franklin.

Sarah's hand up for silence. "But it gets better. The third thing is that my dear mommy decided to brighten my day by e-mailing me an engagement announcement. Girl I went to school with is getting hitched."

"Well early twenties, your friends will start dropping like flies."

"Heather and I weren't friends – in fact she's a horrible person. I hated her guts. The only kicker is that she married Mark Ratner, one of the sweetest, shyest boys in class. He was so shy, I wasn't even sure he liked girls. Can't help but think that if someone as awful as _Heather_ can make a relationship work, what the hell am I doing wrong? That was the third thing.

"The fourth is that I'm here in the most romantic city in the world, and can't escape happy couples. So I lose a boyfriend, because he cheated with my best friend, on the same week the class bitch says yes, and then get sent to Snuggly Couple Capital of the World, with my partner who can't stop cooing to his wife." A sigh. "I need another chocolate croissant."

"Hi, hon? Me again. Sarah's having guy trouble, and it would mean an awful lot to her if we started fighting over the phone in front of her."

Her horrified look. His _gotcha_! grin as he shows a deactivated cell phone. Her first real laugh in a week or more.

"Look dear, you're a spy. It might hurt like hell to hear it, but it's a career choice that lets an awful lot of water out of your dating pool. You work weird hours, and you can't share your day. A lot of the people you meet are habitually deceitful. I'm not saying there's no right guy for you to end up with, but the requirements are a little like joining the Green Berets. There are a lot of requirements and they're all tough"

"You and Carol make it work. Somehow. One day I need to get that story, by the way. I thought a DC homicide detective was supposed to be tough – but you two are as sweetly cloying as a couple of junior high school kids. I'd have never figured Carol for a cop."

Bill regards her over the rim of his coffee mug. "Perhaps you think that falling madly in love with someone makes you weak? Less strong? That's how a rogue thinks, Agent Walker. This biz relies on teamwork, not lone wolves. Once you figure out who and what you can trust, you don't feel ashamed about needing to trust them, and needing them to trust you. The hardest part is separating the trustworthy ones from the non-trustworthy ones. And yeah, that's a bitch. I got lucky when I made my call. Carol is a _hell_ of a woman." A sly grin "I think I've grossed you out enough over that though. But when you find someone you can't live without, you find a way to make it work. It'll be a person you _want_ to make it work with – want it more than anything. Even this job. Not every guy you meet is going to fit that bill. In fact very few are. Now that's the bad news. The good news is you only need to find one."

A sigh from Sarah that mingles dejection with wistfulness.

"Ok, time for your head in the game. Give it to me step by step."

She finishes her orange juice "I'm a love struck co-ed. I'm carrying Pierre Bear here" a gesture to the stuffed bear on the table. "I'm meeting my sugar daddy at the Eiffel Tower."

A self-congratulatory fingernail polish from Franklin.

"I get on the M6 at Raspail right over there. I take the M6 downtown to LeMotte-Picquette-Grenelle. Change to the M10 downtown to Charles Michels. Get off and walk up the Rue-St-Charles. I stay on the right side of the street. The boutique will be on the left side of the street. I walk up Rue-St-Charles right side and use Pierre Bear to take pictures of the license plate of every car parked there. I stop at Rue Rouelle, turn right, walk to Rue de Lourmel, turn right, walk to Avenue Emil Zola, walk back to the Charles Michel Metro. I do the same thing, up the Rue-St-Charles on the left side of the street. Only now I keep Pierre Bear pointed towards the boutique. I stop at the corner and "call" you, and keep Pierre Bear off to my side, him looking at the boutique. I listen to the surveillance van, and squeeze Pierre's tummy when the VIPS show up at the boutique, taking my cues on aiming Pierre Bear from the van. When I'm done, catch the 42 bus to the Champ-de-Mars, and walk down the lawn. Meet you at the awning to Le Jules Verne, and tell you how much I loooove Pierre Bear."

"Mission Accomplished and we're flying out of DeGaulle by sundown. In DC by breakfast, and your first notch in your belt."

"Oh! Can we celebrate my first mission by going up the tower? I'd hate to be so close and to miss the view."

"Sorry kiddo, that can be a two hour wait, and we've got a long flight ahead of us. Your victory dance is a drink on me at the airport lounge. No Eiffel Tower, no Notre Dame, no Lourve, no Moulin Rouge for us. Come back when you're on vacation"

An ironic grin. "Yay. I finally got to go to Paris!"

"M'dear, by the time you're my age, you'll have covered your passport with stamps, but you really won't have seen any of these places. Welcome to the Agency, Agent Walker."

...

...


	5. Sarah vs The Crescent

**A/N:** _Sarah's still sleeping. Yes, I know she just slept all night, but Quadrodotoxin 212 works in funny ways. I ought to know, I invented it._

_This is my first long fan-fiction, and I'll admit the experience is a lot like playing with action figures when I was a kid. Sometimes playing with the action figures is so much fun that the point of a given scene might become buried under all the fun in putting x, y, and z characters together. _

_Here's my literary excuse for this scene. Sarah never was, or never could be as romantically jaded as Carina is. Whereas Carina views men as mostly disposable, untrustworthy, and people to be dominated at all times, Sarah picks up shreds and glimmers of hope from the world around her. Sarah dislikes being emotionally vulnerable more than most people, but still daydreams of being a romantic at heart. I also wanted to isolate Carina a little bit more as the most jaded of all the CATs. All four women are formidable, strong and comfortable around men's attention, but "formidable" and "strong" need not mean completely dismissive of the possibilities of romance and relationships._

_Also, whatever Sarah's romantic/ sexual morals and attitudes, there had to have been a time when she and Carina got along very well. Sarah must have tolerated, if never adopted Carina's attitude with men and life-in-general. By the time we meet her in "vs. The Wookie" Sarah's patience with Carina seems to be already wearing thin … but newly heartbroken Sarah pals around with her in "vs The Three Words"._

_Speaking of Carina, the lady really punches above her weight class in the imaginations of we Chuck fans, doesn't she? She only shows up in four episodes (and seriously, she and Zondra are cameos at best in "vs. The Cliffhanger") but just take a look at how many fan fics she plays an active part in._

_But honestly I reallllllllly wanted to write a scene where the CAT Squad has a relaxed SITC style night out at a time when they'll all together, happy and getting along._

_**Be ye warned:** There's a bunch of frank girls-night-out style sex talk in this chapter. But it's all talk._  
_Not like the next chapter._  
_In fact this will probably be the last time we'll be able to find this story classified under "T". So if you like, first of all –" thanks", and be sure to hit the "follow" or "favorite" button._

_I don't own Chuck, or any of the Chuck-created characters. I do likes me some Stoli though. Go Zondra! I'm also a history buff, so I say Amy and Thomas are too._

_Hope you like. And if you like, review! And if you don't … well review anyway. I love going at it with Chuck fans._

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Sarah vs The Crescent**

_ Stamps in passports … places visited, but unexplored,… un-enjoyed … terror in 2001, … war in 2002 … information gathered … airports … DeGaulle … LAX … Heathrow … Domodedovo … Cairo International …. JFK … Reagan International … Dubai International … Beneto Juarez International… pictures taken … contacts trailed … deliveries made… missions accomplished … evaluations given out … promotions earned … men met, …. Would-be lovers met … charmed … frustrated … lied to … intimidated away … inhibitions dropped … expectations lowered … standards once basic now unattainable … 2003 … 2003 …. Forming a new team … new friends … new stories…new city … new airport … Louis Armstrong International …. A dive bar in New Orleans … waiting for orders to Panama then to Rio. _

"No Amy, that is not ok! That is not ok_ at all_!" Sarah blurts. Blushes. Surely more than one hurricane tonight. Good thing the Clandestine Attack Team is the best looking group to grace this joint. Envious glares from the women, lustful glances from the men. Reliable attention from the staff. An admiring bartender.

"_So_ not ok", a wolfish grin from Zondra. "Seriously. Amy, Sarah doesn't kiss and tell often. When she does, chances are the guy screwed up bad. That was pretty bad."

"Amy, where on the map are you coming from where that's not a deal-breaker? What are guys like in your corner of the world?" Carina is genuinely curious at the existence of someone who might be more tolerant and open-minded about men then her.

"I mean, come on." Amy defends "Don't all guys like to hear about how their peter is the biggest and best thing ever?"

"Amy, there's a time and a place!" Sarah explains. "That was not the time"

"And he was in the wrong place!" Carina finishes to a howl of laughter from Zondra, and a different shade of red from Sarah.

Amy won't let it go. "But I told my high school boyfriend that he was the biggest guy I'd ever seen. Despite the fact that he knew I had done … things with his teammate. They were on the lacrosse team together. They showered together all the time. He had to know– I don't think he honestly believed I was telling the truth about him. He didn't care. It should be okay to tell a little white lie about that every now and then."

"Amy, I think you're completely … and I mean _completely_ and _entirely_ missing the point" Sarah groans.

"Yeah, Amy – you're right about the little white lie thing" Zondra says. "We all do it. Well most of us."

"Sweetie, it's not what Dave said." Carina explains "It's not what he asked for– But it's when he decided to make his request. Sarah's right, there's a time and a place. But don't take my word for it … Hey, Carlos! C'mere!"

"Oh, gawd, Carina, no!" Sarah groans. Buries her head in her hand. She already knows there's no stopping Carina.

Their waiter, a magnificently muscled thirty something with an earring and an easy grin reappears holding his tray. "Another round for my favorite table?"

Carina flashes a ten dollar bill. Slips it up Carlos's arm, catching it in the sleeve of his golf shirt. "Not yet, honey. We just need a guy's opinion on something. Okay, so. You're having sex with the hottest, and I mean the _hottest_ woman you've ever so much as laid eyes on, let alone gotten into bed. She's so hot that in the back of your mind you know she's ruined you for other women. Sex can only go downhill from here, until the day you die. Do you honestly think that when you're inside her, it's the right time to ask her to tell you that you've got the biggest cock she's ever had?"

If Carlos is shocked, he doesn't show it. "Huh. Does she have black hair?"

Four sets of eyes belonging to one brunette, one redhead, and two blondes begin boring into Carlos' shirt. "Why?"" Zondra asks with a touch of menace in her voice.

"My wife has black hair, and she ruined me from the first night. It's never gone downhill, it's kind of … I don't know plateaued. … plateaued at a very high place. I love it." Carlos said with a grin.

"Oh, I'm gonna barf" growls Carina.

"That's really sweet", coos Amy.

Sarah simply grins at Carina's discomfort… and also at something else.

Zondra allows a "Niiiice. Okay Carlos, tell the truth. The God's honest truth now. Is she the hottest woman you've ever had? I don't care if she can cook your favorite dinner, or watches your favorite shows, or looks like great mother material. She's your absolute pinnacle of lust? Don't worry, we'll never tell. You'll probably never see us again after tonight."

Carlos grins again, sincerely. "I am not even joking, she's the best looking woman I've ever seen. And I've worked with some of the hottest waitresses and barmaids in New Orleans, and I'm talking Saints cheerleaders kind of hot. But every dirty thought I've had since meeting her, has been _about_ her. And no, I've got no idea how I got her. I just have images of my son asking me for advice when he likes his first girl – and I'm gonna have no idea what to tell him, because I still won't have figured out how I got his mama. "

"How'd you meet her?" Sarah's genuinely curious.

"She worked at Frank's Bait Shop. I saw her when she had an arm full of worm bins."

"UggggghhhHH! Now I'm getting sick for a whole other reason!" Carina is distressed. "Wait a minute honey, we're getting off the question – would you ever ask a woman about where your manhood ranks _while_ you're in the middle of things?"

"Well …" A sly grin from Carlos – he's thinking of something clever to say.

"Use your words, honey." Carina demands.

"A few of us guys don't have to, you see. We can afford to assume that we're way near the top. So no."

More alcohol infused laughter from the CAT table. A five from Sarah "That's for you, sweetie. Buy your wife her favorite magazine, preferably one with lots of sex tips. You both deserve it."

Carlos is off to the next table in his section.

"Leave it to you to help an already married guy get laid with his own wife." Carina says in faux disgust.

"I guess when this whole government gig is over, I'll start working at a bait shop," Zondra muses with an appreciative glance at Carlos' backside. "So, then. Amy – what did we learn here tonight?"

"That it's not okay for a guy to ask for a rating on his peter in the middle of sex."

Sarah interrupts. "Next lesson should really be about dropping the word 'peter' from our vocabulary. You might be the only person I know old enough to wear a bra who actually uses that word to describe a man's equipment."

Carina nods "She's right – listening to you talk about men is like listening to somebody who mixed up the scripts of _Showgirls_ with _Lamb Chop's Play Along_."

Amy blushes "Yeah, I guess – it's just that my parents didn't like me cursing at all around the house. I still don't swear that much".

"Time to make a woman out of you, girl" Zondra says.

"I know just the way – when we're man hunting tonight, Amy gets point. We hook her up first before worrying about ourselves." Carina declares. "Agreed?"

"Sounds good " Zondra says "But I'm back in the game too, so let's get a move on."

" Awww," Sarah says, in sympathy "Things not work out with Firefighter Steve?"

"Zondra Rizzo" Carina chirps "Sleeping with New York firefighters before it was cool"

A smoldering look from Zondra "… Actually… they were working out too well. For him at least. Steve was ready to sign up for the whole package, but he wanted the whole thing, y'know, house in the Bronx, two kids by the time I'm 25. I had to sit him down and tell him that wasn't me. At least not yet. I mean seriously, what kind of guy wants to get married at 22?"

"The kind to run away from really fast" Carina offers.

"I don't know" Sarah muses ..."Apparently the marrying type still exists. – I thought you two might go the distance – how long were you together anyway?"

"Two years, off and on, but a lot of it was long distance, obviously."

Amy is thoughtful "Gee, Zondra …. If I was with a guy for two years and he _didn't_ want to get married, I might get tired of waiting."

"Don't make me hurt you, Amy" Carina says. Faux seriousness "You don't want a guy who's going to have a problem with you traveling. No longer how long you're dating "

"Well, what's the right time period?" Zondra asks earnestly. "When should a guy want to get married to you?"

"About 45 seconds into the first blowjob. Otherwise you need to work on your technique!" Carina roars at her own joke. Zondra's groan says _good one_. Amy blushes.

Sarah can't help a grin, but is still curious "How'd Steve take it?"

Zondra's eyes wince. "It was pretty ugly. What sucks is that I've probably turned him into this huge player now. He's surrounded by guys who just can't wait to lead him around to every strip joint and Hooters in town to get him to forget about me. It's one of the down things about being with a firefighter- there's no shortage of chicks who are ready to throw themselves at them."

"It could be worse," Carina insists. "If Steve's a player, he's a player. Most guys are. Almost all guys are. It'd be good for him to embrace that now than when he's 35 or so, and married with a few kids."

"Do you think _every_ guy is a man whore?" Amy wants to know.

"I think every guy would be, if they could be" Carina explains. "Not every guy can be a player because they don't get opportunities. Take those guys over there." She nods her head to a table across the dining room.

Four men wearing identical white shirts with grey ties. A fifth wearing a green Buy More golf shirt. A sixth person in a suit, clearly managerial. Carlos has just delivered their drinks.

"To the grand opening of the Buy More Westbank! And the first of many Nerd's Night's Out!" the managerial one says.

"What about them?" Amy asks.

"The guys in the white shirts are the Nerd Herd. " Carina explains "They're computer guys- technical support. Usually shy, bookish types who are better with books and machines then with people. You remember them from school."

"Yeah, so?"

"Now, Amy, how often do you think those guys are getting laid? As often as Firefighter Steve?"

"Well, no." Amy grins.

"Now if you or Zondra went over there and introduced yourself, and got something started with one of them, they'd probably _act_ like the perfect boyfriend … for as long as they felt that they couldn't do any better. Considering the sex lives some of these guys probably have to make do with, that could take a while. But eventually, someone newer and more exciting would come in their lives, and they'd cheat."

Sarah notices something. "The older one with the short hair has a wedding ring. Are you so sure he'd play around?"

"I say it's safer to assume so than not. Guys will let you down, Walker."

"Soooo…. Are we introducing ourselves to these guys or…" Amy wants to know the plan.

"Oh hell no!" Zondra declares. "First of all, we're not staying here long - we're just here for a few drinks, to hear my tale of woe about Steve, to laugh at Sarah about Dave, and to hear about the last fifteen guys Carina's banged."

Of off Amy's slightly horrified look Carina says "She's exaggerating. Slightly".

"After we're done here, we're going dancing." Zondra continues. "And you're going to see the kind of guys that swarm around us. You'll have your own investment banker, or yacht-owning playboy begging to show you a good time by midnight."

A bitter laugh from Sarah. "Yeah, they can be about as sleazy as the sort of guys we go after, but they're on the right side of the law. Usually."

Zondra says "And second of all, no matter where we were going to find guys you can do better than a guy with a boring job than that. It's bad enough that you can't talk about your job. You don't need to hear about a guy's job that's as boring as that."

Sarah temporizes "You might find one who has fun hobbies or something like that, but I don't think I could stand computer installations as a dinner topic."

"Not so fast" Carina warns "Smart guys can surprise you in the bedroom. A lot of the time it's because they were slow out of the gate in the whole losing-their-virginity thing, so they were reading about sex for years before they actually got to try anything. I've run with a brainiac or two or three or ten, and some of them rank up there in the skills department. You can't trust them any more or less, but don't write them off in bed."

"Well, yeah" Sarah allows, "But there's doctor smart, rocket scientist smart, and Nerd Herd smart. I don't think they're equal."

A saucy grin from Carina "This is why I'm proud to have an open mind sometimes".

Zondra sighs. "I'm dry". As Carina grins and opens her mouth for a no-doubt-suggestive remark, Zondra preemptively barks "My drink! My drink is dry. One more round and then we split?"

"Sounds good" says Sarah and she cranes her head for Carlos. Taking the Buy More table's order. "Well we can wait for Carlos, or just …"

"Bar!" Amy says. "I'll help carry." Points to Carina and Zondra "Margarita on rocks, lots of salt, Vodka tonic."

"Stoli and tonic" Zondra grins. "Make sure you say Stoli. But other than that, good job baby girl!"

The brace of blondes stride over to the crowded bar. "I'm not sure if you've guessed it or not," Sarah says "… but Carina really likes to shock people when it comes to sex. I'd take everything she says with a grain of salt."

"Oh, it's cool!" Amy squeals "I'm having the time of my life with you three. I've never been to New Orleans before, and I've never had a bunch of girlfriends before! You girls are awesome."

Sarah grins. She can sympathize. Another lost soul finding some camaraderie in this world of deceit, secrets, and occasional violence. "Yeah, people with lots of friends don't exactly sign up to be agents. Broken homes and messed up childhoods are recruiting grounds for the government." To the bartender: "I need one hurricane, one margarita on the rocks- lots of salt, a fruit punch jolly rancher, and a vodka tonic."

"Stoli! Stoli and tonic!" Amy corrects.

"Stoli and tonic," Sarah agrees. "Chop-chop, sweetie, we're thirsty. Tell Carlos to put it on our check"

"I guess you're right", Amy says thoughtfully. "I was really pretty much an outsider in school before … this job" As ditzy as Amy can seem to be, she's savvy enough to not mention that she's CIA. "I was never a cheerleader or friends with the prom queen. I liked field hockey, but didn't make the team."

Sarah's laugh interrupts. "Funny, you're perky enough that I'd have pegged you for both cheerleading and prom queen".

"Yeah I know. But I really wasn't in school. I was this big history dork, in addition to being a bit of a feminist. All Clara Barton this and Shirley Chisolm that. Not a huge hit with the boys. Just the few who could stand to hear me talk about things like the Middle East. Most of them didn't like hearing me critique the movie _Pearl Harbor_. "

"Old for your age" Sarah says. "Another common theme in this line of work."

The drink order is almost finished. The bartender is finishing up the last. He interrupts, allowing his hand to brush Amy's as he sets her jolly rancher on the bar. "Wow, gorgeous, blonde, into history and some taste in movies" he says, looking at Amy. "Will you run away with me?"

Both Sarah and Amy turn. His attention is on Amy. Sarah's initial thought is_ A bartender … he probably hits on everything with boobs that walks in here just for the tip money_. Her spy training kicks in, and she quickly reads his face. Not a particularly tall fellow- both women are taller than he when they wear heels. His brown eyes have a bit of a twinkle as he smiles. Keeps his eyes locked on hers, avoiding any temptation to drift down to Amy's chest, despite the fact that her tank top is usually distracting. And saying that he's into history has to be genuine – it's too easy a bluff to call. The bartender- his nametag reads "Thomas" looks somewhat sincere-his his eyes and smile giving him a puppy dog stare.

She turns and regards Amy. Blushing a little, and thinking of something clever to say. Sarah decides to help her out. She tells Thomas. "Sweetie, have you been waiting all this time for a supermodel history buff to take you away from all this? Cause you have some pretty tough standards for women to meet"

Amy's recovered. Doesn't want Thomas turning to Sarah to respond. She puts her other hand on Thomas' "Honey, I don't think I can run away with you just yet. I've just got here, and I haven't even seen that much of the city yet!"

"Well…" Thomas says. A simple hint of a southern drawl. "I didn't say we'd have to run far. If you really like history, you'll want to see either the D-Day museum on Higgins, or the Chalmette Battlefield. There's also one or two ghost tours 'round here. It all depends on how long you're in town for. I promise you there's more to see then you can handle."

Sarah grabs Carina's and Zondra's drinks. Happy she's gotten things started. "I'll make two trips" before making her way back to the table.

"What's up?" Zondra asks.

"Oh, I think I've just earned the wing-woman award for the night. Our bartender likes Amy, and it looks like they're bonding over ghost tours."

All three sets of eyes turn towards the bar. Thomas has a big grin on his face, and Amy is chatting energetically.

"Wow, Amy didn't waste any time at all, did she?" Zondra notes, impressed.

"Gotta rescue my drink." Sarah heads back.

"… I did _not_ know that! At all!" Amy squeals in delight at Thomas. "Sarah, guess what? Y'know those green boats that the Americans used in the beginning of _Saving Private Ryan_ to storm the beaches? They were actually built in real life right here in New Orleans! Thomas says they were called Higgins Boats! And that's why they have a D-Day museum in this city! Isn't that cool?"

Sarah looks at Thomas, who's obviously pleased to have impressed Amy. "True story." He beams.

"Very cool." Sarah pretends to agree. Really couldn't care less where World War II factories were once located. She leans in. Whispers to Amy "We're off tomorrow, and then on standby at 17:00 hours. Plan accordingly"

"I'm free tomorrow until five" Amy coos, playing with her hair. "Any chance you'd mind showing me the museum? I'd really love to see it. My granddaddy landed at Utah beach – but he made sure to say that he was in one of the later waves. It wasn't actually on D-Day."

Amy seems to have it well in hand. Sarah, arrives at the CAT table. "Yep," she gloats. "Best wing-woman ever."

"So that leaves the three of us." Carina says. "Sooo…"

Sarah sips her hurricane. "So, we need to find Zondra a guy who doesn't want to get married right away. That shouldn't be too hard to find."

"And we need to get you a guy who's hung like Seabiscut, so he doesn't need you to reassure him." Zondra chirps. Sarah nearly chokes on her hurricane swig, she's laughing so hard.

"That'll be your job", Carina says, "Make sure you check the shoe sizes of every guy she dances with."

"Eh, urban legend" Sarah laughs. Gives a faux wistful sigh.

"As if I didn't know that already…" Carina winks. "And as for me, I'm working on a new thing. I'll aggressively seduce any wall flowers I find near the bar. Time to give the shy guys of the world a chance"

"What if they're only there for their girlfriends, who are on the dance floor?" Sarah's slightly alarmed.

"Then this is how we get good stories to talk about next time." Carina waves Carlos over for the check. He's already has it ready for them. "Aaaaannnnd speaking of stories." Amy has returned.

"Hey!" Amy sits down with her half-drunk jolly rancher. "Looks like you'll have to survive tomorrow without me. Tom's taking me to the D-Day museum right before lunch."

Carina's slightly incredulous. "The D-Day museum, huh? Tom the bartender is the King of Cool."

"He's into history, I'm into history. It'll be fun"

"Why didn't you ask him to come dancing with us tonight?" Zondra asks. "And bring along three cute friends or brothers?"

"He's a bartender, silly! He's going to be here until after 2:00!"

"You're worth getting fired over." Carina reassures. She collects the money from all the CATs, -cash only, naturally- and hands the check back to Carlos. "You already got your tip, honey"

"Thanks, you gals have fun tonight, and see us next time you're in town." Carlos grins.

"Oh, honey, you're married. That means you're no fun to flirt with. So I'm afraid this is good-bye" Carina teases.

Sarah pauses for a note of seriousness. "OK Amy, remember security."

Amy nods. "I have my tracker watch on. You can keep track of me on the laptop if you're curious. He's picking me up in the lobby of the Hotel Beauregard. I'll be waiting for him as if I'm staying there. I never mentioned the fact that we're staying at the Hotel Lafayette. I also have my pepper spray and my gun. The museum's downtown, right by Lee Circle. We're on standby at 17:00, and he has to work tomorrow at 16:00 anyways, so I'll be back at the hotel in plenty of time." "If anything heads south, it's the distress button on the watch first, _then_ your gun." Sarah admonishes.

Zondra's ready to dance "OK, We're off to the Roundhouse Lounge -everyone finish up!"

Drinks dispatched with and abandoned. The CATs' exit takes them by the bar. Amy waves like a schoolgirl. "Byeeeeeee!"

"Tomorrow at 11?" Thomas verifies.

"Yep! And don't you even think about being late!" Amy says.

"Ok, Prince Charming" Zondra declares "We're taking Cinderella here to the ball. We'll keep an eye on her for you."

"We totally will" Carina promises. "If any gorgeous, wealthy, well-endowed rich guy tries to carry her away at the dance club, I will even throw myself at him so she can escape. That's my promise to you."

In the spirit of things, Thomas pretends to be touched as Carina and Amy hustle out to find a cab. "Oh, thanks" he says to Carina's back. To Zondra and Sarah "She's my new heroine"

"Yeah Carina's self-sacrificing like that. We all like Amy a lot" Zondra says, locking eyes with Thomas.

"You seem like an ok guy, Thomas" Sarah says seriously. "And Amy seems pretty happy that she's met you."

"Granted, she's always like that". Zondra adds. "Sarah's point is … that when she comes back to the hotel tomorrow afternoon, we want her to be in just as good a mood. Or better. You see, we talk to each other about our guys all the time."

"Yeah, I guessed." Thomas grins. "Carlos calls you the_ Sex and the City_ table." Both women grin at the reference, even the pop-culturally dense Sarah. Zondra has introduced her to it a while ago.

"Well, Thomas… we're more of a _Sex and The City_ meets _The Sopranos_." Zondra smiles at him. "If you end up breaking Amy's heart …"

Sarah continues "… Carina's first stop will be liquor store. Zondra and my first stop will be here. And for breaking Amy's heart we'll just come here and break, break, break."

"So Amy's going to have nothing but great things to say about how you treated her tomorrow, isn't that right?" Zondra says.

"Sure! We're going to have a great time. I've never gotten a bad review from a gal I dated. I've just never had one who wanted to go to a history museum before." Thomas doesn't know it, but he's passed Zondra and Sarah's test with flying colors. According to Zondra, a quality guy accepts and even appreciates a protective circle of friends around a woman he's interested in, and can take mild threats of retribution in stride. Less-than quality men are disturbed at the idea of a woman having protective friends, and are made nervous by them. Sarah hasn't seen this test work for her yet, but she's hopeful for it. Zondra swears by it. "She'll be so happy, that you three will be jealous of her" Thomas chirps.

Sarah's smile is genuine. "Glad to hear that. She likes guys in button down shirts rather than t-shirts, so go with that. And if you can manage to work some of the color green into your wardrobe, that'll also help a lot. Her last boyfriend used Drakkar Noir, so don't. Have fun tomorrow, Thomas."

Zondra and Sarah turn on their heels, and make for the door. Their taxi awaits.

_Guys will let you down, Walker_ Seemingly Carina's marching theme.

Well, Sarah can't refute. They've certainly been letting _her_ down. But if Carlos is as advertised, he hasn't been letting his wife down. And both she and Zondra are confident that Thomas won't be letting Amy down.


	6. Sarah vs The Promotion

_**A/N:**__ Okay, time to send the kids into the other room. We got your violence and we got your sex (more of the latter than the former) right here. And we got Bryce Larkin, so some of you might want to use this chapter as an ipecac in the event of accidental poisoning. _

_ Bryce Larkin is a character I love to hate, so he's a challenge to write for. His heart may seem to be in the right place in "…Alma Matter", but he badly damages whatever goodwill I had extended him by "…Nemesis". To be fair, the whole "brutalize, kidnap, burglarize, generally terrify the very people I'm going to depend on to trust me later-and then hope they listen to me rather than shoot me on sight" plan was later overused by Mary Bartowski in Season 4 as well. _

_ By "…The Breakup" I simply wanted Bryce gone for good as his one saving grace- the notion that he cares for either Chuck or Sarah had just been torched by his selfish and manipulative behavior. Not only did he throw a monkey wrench into the Charah dynamic because he wanted Sarah back, he used Chuck's own sense of protectiveness and Chuck's urge to do the right thing as the wrench. Scumbag. And oh yes. Sarah's memory of her old partner is going to take a small hit before my story's through. Fear ye not. _

_ BUT …. That's all Bryce when he was a side in the Bryce-Sarah-Chuck triangle, wasn't it? What was spy-Bryce like before the pilot episode, in a spy world that didn't include Chuck? It'd be unfair to make Bryce my punching bag in a scene set before Chuck can impact Sarah's life. It'd also be unfair to overload Bryce with character flaws that would disqualify him as a spy, or paint him as staggeringly incompetent. It's canon that he's a good spy. And he had to have treated Sarah at least tolerably. Sarah might be complicated, and might have once been able to settle for less in a spy relationship, but I doubt she'd stay if Bryce was in any way abusive._

_ Was anyone else, when they watched Season 5's " … The Baby" surprised that Sarah had a 'handler' right up until the mission before Chuck B? It's canonically said the Hungary baby rescue happens immediately before her being sent to Burbank after Chuck. Ok, fine. So I guess a CIA operative, no matter how successful, is 'handled' up until the point (s)he's able to handle an agent/asset on his/her own. Okey dokey …. But that suggests that Ryker, or someone like him must have been in charge of her even during the Bryce years. Someone Sarah & Bryce reported too after their missions? Perhaps it was even he who ordered Sarah's Red Test. _

_So. The Red Test. Yes. I'll admit that the test did its job in "… vs. The Final Exam" and served as a dramatic Moral Event Horizon (to borrow a TV Trope) for Chuck, Sarah, and Casey to deal with… despite the disadvantage of making absolutely no sense in the Chuck Universe, or any universe. There's not enough time or space to type out all the reasons that are wrong with the premise of the Red Test, but for me, the biggest question (among many many in-universe questions the Red Test begs) is this: For every class of spy candidates that pass every semester/ year/ every other year/ whatever it is, is there a corresponding number of moles, infiltrators and various no-goodniks who need to be extra-judiciously gunned down? Why are there so many? If the CIA bolsters its security, and has trouble finding successful moles because of it, does that hinder the progression of spy candidate classes? Agent Whiskeyflips wants to know!_

_**Be Ye Warned: **__Explicit sex scene here. Readers allergic to Bryce and Sarah may wish to skip down to the end._

_Don't own Chuck. Not even a pair of Chuck Taylors._

_Hope you're enjoying (overall-I get that this chapter may be awkward). Don't forget to review!_

* * *

**Chapter 6- Sarah vs The Promotion**

_2003 … 2003 … frustration … deception … betrayal? … Augusto Gaez escapes … escapes again … frustration … suspicion… falling out with Zondra … the breakup of the CAT Squad….reassignment … new missions … new targets … new airports… Galeão International Airport…Narita International …Denver International … Leonardo da Vinci–Fiumicino Airport … 2004 …. 2004 …. Dullas International for the dozenth time …Benito Juarez Airport again … Düsseldorf Airport… Oslo International …Sydney Kingsford Smith International. …1__st__ Passport filled, just as Uncle Bill predicted… _

_2005… 2005… 2005... DeGaule International … again… January in Paris… Red Test Complete … Sarah Walker: Spy … dead brunette woman lying on the side walk… Exit via Metro… La vue est belle _

Death is instantaneous. Sarah's shot has been placed well. She had steeled herself to kill the mole. Now the mole is dead. Her Walther PPK is still heavy and warm in her hand. She jams it into the right hand pocket of her overcoat. The emotions she had successfully fought down now struggle to overtake her brain, and fight for supremacy.. Fear.

Revulsion.

Nausea.

Hatred.

An odd sense of accomplishment. _Is that … pride, perhaps? _

_ Exit via Metro! St. Michel Station! 4 train southbound!_ _ La vue est belle ! _

Sarah twists her head down the street towards her exit. Another emotion attempts to attack and conquer her. Panic.

Agents will panic in terrifying situations, she had learned. That is why there is training. Orders. Plans_. _

_ Exit via Metro. St. Michel Station. 4 train southbound. Loose the extensions. Use the wig. Use the glasses. Then lose the gun. _

She trots a block and a half and rounds a corner. In one smooth move, pulls up her hair and unclips the fake blonde extensions that had given the appearance of her hair falling to her shoulder blades and halfway down her back. Now her blonde hair is clipped, falling no further than her ears.. She had lamented the loss of her blonde locks, but it had made the disguising easier. Genuflecting at the curb, the extensions are discarded down the storm drain.

Her gunshot has caused a commotion. People shouting. One woman screaming. Sarah momentarily stiffens. … But the female scream is far too healthy, and far too frightened to have come from the mole. No, the mole is quite dead.

Sarah ducks into the next ally, and crouches behind a convenient dumpster. She tucks the Walther PPK into her left overcoat pocket. From her right overcoat pocket she withdraws a jet black wig. It's slightly windy and very cold, and both work in her favor. Wind provides an excuse for her wig to look slightly unkempt. The cold keeps the number of pedestrians on the street down. Now from the right pocket come a set of horn rimmed glasses. Sarah reappears from behind the dumpster with a look quite different from the one the gunned down the brunette just three minutes ago.

Back on the sidewalk. A fresh gust of chilly wind. The he-haw he-haw sound of an oncoming Parisian police car. The marked unit rounds the corner ahead of her, and charges her way. Emergency lights blinding. Siren deafening. She fights the urge to hide, run or look away. Instead she simply watches the police car roar right by her, and towards the scene of the homicide. Across the street from which the police car emerged, the Metro stop. St. Michel.

Steps. Farecard. A six minute wait for the southbound train. She steps on… and for the first time in eleven minutes can relax. Her most stressful night. It's not over yet. She could still be arrested. She could still be killed if the mole had any reinforcements around. She could even be betrayed by her own CIA. She still needs to meet her handler. But there's nothing to do now until this train hits Raspail Station….. Raspail … .

This is a much different mission then the last time she's been to Raspail. There's no denying it now. In the midst of the very real horror, there's pride. Accomplishment. The adrenaline rush of having played a high-stakes game. And having won. Or at least winning so far.

Raspail. No wait at all for the 6 train, in fact she has to run for it. Eastbound. Passy. Under the shadow, and just across the Seine from the Eiffel Tower.

_Loose the gun._

_La vue est belle _

_Pont de Bir-Hakeim. _A double decker bridge. Between the Passy station and the Eiffel Tower. Traffic is fairly light. The center of the Bir-Hakeim bridge. In her flurry of thoughts, she had read somewhere that this bridge was named after some battle of World War II_. Does Amy know about it? She probably does. I wonder how she is. Where she is. Has she had to take a Red Test?_

_Loose the gun._

She grips the Walther PPK for the last time. She had chosen this gun in officer candidate school because it felt good in her hand. Natural, like an extension of her arm. Now if feels heavy, foreign … _wrong_, somehow. In the center of the bridge, with a careful, but seemingly casual movement, she tosses the PPK nine feet off of the bridge, and into the middle of the Seine. She checks her watch. 9:30 pm. The tower's open for another hour and a half.

She walks the short distance across the bridge, and to the Tower. It's cold out, dark. Breezy. January in Paris. Few people in Paris brave enough to queue up for the elevator trip. Twenty at the most. Security is comprehensive. She's glad she doesn't have the gun. As the elevator ascends to the top, she notices an odd detail – she's the only single woman there. Or single person there. It seems touring the tower this late on a cold night is typically a couples-only adventure. _Snuggly Couple Capital of the World_.

The elevator doors open at the top of the observation tower, and the gust of cold wind takes everyone by surprise. Sarah's cold and uncomfortable, in addition to the flood of shooting-related emotions that she's still dealing with.

The tableau is amazing. The night is clear and cold. Paris is beautiful. It truly earns the name City of Light. To the east, she can see the _Pont de Bir-Hakeim_, which she just crossed. Across the river is the _Arc de Triomphe_ and the _Champs-Élysées_. It's almost enough to make her forget the ugliness of 45 minutes ago.

To her left is a pair of brave teenagers, their grins resisting the biting wind. Their rosy cheeks and noses are the only signs of discomfort, but they keep each other warm no doubt with constant kissing. Beyond them is an elderly couple, the woman is fit and silver haired. She pushes a man in a wheelchair – he is not doing so well. Their hands are clasped. To her right are two men. They too look happy and contented. The larger man stands behind the smaller, and envelopes him in his arms. Sarah grins slightly. _I'm the only one here who's not getting lucky tonight._ Her moods have begun to calm down. Instead of changing and swinging once per second, she's only experiencing a mood swing a few times a minute. Now she feels self-conscious. "_La vue est belle"_ comes an unfamiliar voice behind her. The view is lovely.

"_De tous les côtés_" From all sides … Sarah gives the countersign, but does not turn around.

"And how was your art class?" The voice gives the second sign.

"The test was easy". Sarah turns around, and her breath catches. The man has simply the most gorgeous blue-grey eyes she's ever seen. They seem to stare right through her. It takes a second for her to realize that he's carrying a bouquet of flowers.

"Our friend Kieran sent me to come fetch you. These are for you."

"Very sweet. Thank you. I'm Sarah Walker"

"I know. Bryce Larkin." He grins. "Now give me a kiss so we blend in with all the other happy couples."

Had Bryce said that a minute earlier or later, he might have gotten a proper and discrete peck on the lips. But with her emotions still whirling in a cyclone, Sarah feels mischievous. She takes off her glove and cups the back of Bryce's head. Her fingers weave through his locks of medium length dark hair. She pulls herself in for an aggressively passionate kiss. She puts herself into it, and her tongue flicks across Brycés lips before she breaks the kiss. "_Merci!"_ She chirps, relishing her self-appointed role. "_Merci pour les fleurs !"_ as she waves the bouquet. _"Merci beaucoup!_"

Bryce is amused. "C'mon. It's freezing up here. Kieran has a little set up for you across the way."

"Sure". She grasps Bryce's hand and begins to lead him to the elevator. Along the way they pass the elderly couple. Sarah kneels down, and pulls half of the flowers out of her bouquet. "Be sure to give these to your wife." She says to the wheelchair bound man. She glances up at his wife.

Both husband and wife say "Thank you".

"They're nearly as lovely as the first flowers he gave me, the first time we came up this tower" says the wife.

"That's lovely" Sarah says. "Is this tower your special place?"

"It's everyone's special place" says the man, with a smile. "But more for me than most. Not only did I meet my wife here long ago, my mother courted my father here. "

"How interesting", Sarah is practically giddy. "Your mother acted as tour guide?"

"She lived in the city, and knew the area well. My father worked in a vineyard in the south, and had never seen a city before he came to visit her. She always joked that she wasn't sure what he was interested in more – the city or her!"

Sarah laughs. "That is perhaps the loveliest thing I've ever heard. I must tell my friend Carina this story – she doesn't believe in finding love at all"

The wife speaks "Tell her that when she does, she must bring him here. And who is this handsome young man?" She turns towards Bryce." The love of your own life?"

Sarah gives Bryce an appraising glance. "Too early to tell". She doesn't know how unusual it is for a woman to make Bryce Larkin blush, otherwise she'd savor this moment more.

"_Viens, mon cher" _Bryce purrs, as he softly pulls Sarah towards the elevator.

_Guys will let you down, Walker._

Sarah's enamored mood swings once again. She becomes very quiet in the elevator. She took the time to appreciate a long-term love story just now. She's kissed a new man for the first time tonight-perhaps the beginning of a new love story. Yet elsewhere in Paris, what was very possibly another love story has come to a violent and bloody end. Because of her.

Arm in arm, Sarah and Bryce enter a mid-scale restaurant. It's after the rush of the dinner hours, and customers are light. Sarah's mood has swung yet again to a professional demeanor. It's time to meet her handler.

Kieran Ryker. He sits at the table set for four. Across from him are a few brightly wrapped presents, almost as if it were a birthday. To Kieran's right sits a bespectacled, balding man. He's on the cusp between "Middle-aged" and "elderly". Whoever he is, he has old school manners, and he rises from his chair at the approach of Sarah and Bryce. That earns him a gracious smile from Sarah. Kieran notices this and stands himself. "There's the lady of the hour now. Director Graham just got the good news. Sarah, I see you met your new partner, Bryce Larkin."

"Oh, we've met. I didn't know I had a new partner yet". Sarah says, confused.

"We'll get to that later. Sit you two." Sarah and Bryce do. Bryce takes the seat without the presents on there.

"Congratulations Sarah. Tonight had to have been tough. But you pulled through" Kieran's careful not to let his praise be too effusive. It's not, after all an entirely happy night. "Director Graham's very proud of you, and I am too. "

"Thanks, Ryker" Sarah acknowledges. Sarah's never been able to put her finger on it, but something about her handler prohibited her from calling him by his first name. She eyes Ryker's companion, waiting for an introduction.

The older man takes it upon himself. "Agent Walker, here is my card." He produces his business card and hands it to her. "I have offices located all over the world, just for days just like this, and for agents just like you."

"Doctor Leo Dreyfus?" Sarah reads. "Head shrink?"

"CIA psychiatrist. My services are especially for traumas involved with the Agency. There's no point in denying it, Agent Walker, tonight was a difficult night for you, and tomorrow you and I are going to chat about it. "

"I think I'm all right". Sarah thinks about making it a protest, but knows better.

"We'll see. I'll expect you in my office at 1:30. You're likely to sleep in tomorrow. Now I'm hopeful you'll excuse me." He rises to leave. "Agent Ryker, Agent Walker, Agent Larkin."

"Thanks Doc." Ryker says.

The shrink is replaced by the waiter bringing a drink order. A gin and tonic for Ryker , a whiskey straight for Larkin, and a scotch neat for Walker.

"Well, open your presents." Ryker says. "I trust the PPK is … secured?"

"At the bottom of the river."

"Good, then open up blue present first. Then keep it on the down low."

Sarah tears open the wrapping paper, revealing a box. It's heavy, and its heft can only mean one thing. "I was wondering how I got another one".

Inside the foam lined box is a brand new stainless steel Smith and Wesson 5906, with two magazines.

"Thanks, I'm speechless." Sarah says dryly.

The next present is about the size and weight of a small brick, and Sarah doesn't even have to open it, to know what it was. "9mm?"

"Just like the gun," Ryker said. "I know how you have a thing for magazine capacity"

Her other presents are equally practical. A plastic conceal holster especially designed for a 5906. A black clutch purse that doubles as a holster, also capable of accepting a 5906. And her new Central Intelligence Agency credentials.

"We all stand down for until 17:00 tomorrow. Agent Walker, protocol for passing a Red Test is usually to give the agent a week's vacation after her chat with Psych Services. You're getting something a little bit better. A milk run in Lisbon. You and Agent Larkin are going to pose as a married couple, you'll be relaxing in Portugal for about two weeks before schmoozing at a party with some big shot scientists at the University of Lisbon. Apparently we're all really interested in the political leanings of some of these docs. Nothing to retrieve, nothing to upload, nobody to tail, no place to break into. Just wearing wires at a party. Piece of cake, right?"

"Famous last words", Larkin warns.

"Of course" Ryker allows. " Anyway, happy promotion, Sarah. I'm on the next flight to Dullas for some of your processing. You've got your chat-fest with Dreyfus, and then you're at on the next train to Lisbon. You two are on the rails this time tonight." The handler rises to leave.

"Thanks Ryker" Sarah says. "G'night". She and Bryce remain at the table, silent. The events of the past few hours roil about in her head. How long they sit, she doesn't know. It's Bryce who breaks the meditation.

"Mine was less than a year ago." His blue eyes look into hers, but she can't decipher any emotion they're communicating.

Sarah doesn't really know how to respond. She can't think of a question to ask. Bryce can't tell her any real details, of course. In fact, Bryce probably knows as little about his Red Test as she knows about her own. A name, a place to attack, and a few sentences as to why the unlucky person needs to die.

"You were a little luckier than me. I didn't have a river handy to get rid of the gun." Bryce says smoothly, volunteering a detail that provides no information of any real interest.

"I guess so. " Her scotch drained, she signals the waiter for another.

Bryce nods for another whiskey. "My next mish helped get me over the hump. It was easy. The next mish, that is. Distance helps. I haven't had a day as rough as my Red Test since."

Sarah's mood has swung once more. The image of the brunette falling to the freezing sidewalk is indelibly seared into her mind, as if by a cattle brand. After taking the shot to the head, she simply lay there. It is a windy and cold night. Guilt begins to gnaw at her - comically. She's gotten over executing the hapless mole, but it now dawns on her to feel sorry for the fact that she had killed her when it was so cold out. So windy. Such an undignified and uncomfortable way to die, with the frosty wind robbing her of her body heat as she expired. With the cold, unforgiving pavement along her cheek and her nose.

She shudders.

"Starting tomorrow we'll be playing a married couple." Bryce says. "I'm at the Hotel de Rochambeau just like you, only one floor below. I'll walk you back?"

She holds up her half empty glass. "I think I need a few more of these"

Bryce grins with a small amount of slyness. "I came prepared". From under the table he fishes out a bottle of Cutty Sark. "I'm a bit of a cheapskate. Why use the hotel minibar, or patronize the bars when you can hit the liquor store?"

"Ah, a cheapskate. You know just what to say to a girl". Sarah grins. With this much alcohol in her system, and this much horror in her mind, any type of humor is appreciated. And rewarded.

"I've been accused of that". Bryce smiles again.

Sarah turns her attention from her dying scotch to Bryce's blue eyes. They're calm … and both sympathetic and unconcerned at the same time…. A little like the look a coach might give to a slightly injured baseball player. … or a parent to a child with a brush burn or a bee sting … capable of acknowledging the very real pain … but not particularly interested in coddling, or encouraging her to feel very sorry for herself for very long. To his earlier remark "I'll bet."

"It's on me". Bryce signals for the check.

They walk back to the hotel, with the wind turning their noses and cheeks pink. Bryce's arm snakes around her waist. Sarah already knows how this night's going to end – only one of their hotel rooms is going to be used. Oh, she completely has a choice, of course – but emotionally it's as unavoidable as bad traffic on the DC Beltway during rush hour. Bryce's room will be empty, sober, silent. Hers will be none of these. Oddly enough, she's not aroused sexually- at least not remarkably so. She just wants to end the night on an up note. To find an activity that'll keep her feeling something positive for more than ten minutes in a row. She doesn't feel like sleeping alone.

They find her hotel room. The overcoats and gloves come off. The scotch opens and flows. The ice clinks and cracks. The laughter comes. She laments her new short hair. She's never had it cut this short before, and she hates it. More laughter, bonding over the surreal qualities of their comradeship. There may be many in the world who know what it's like to kill. Far fewer know what it's like to kill for the CIA, on orders, without the conscience-balm of it being self-defense, or an obvious enemy.

"I guess that doc handles a lot of these" Sarah muses. "He knows I'll be sleeping in."

"Well, that's one of the side effects of this" Bryce raps the scotch bottle. "And this" another rap "is the tried and true way of dealing when things aren't fun. One of them, anyway."

"You've put away half the bottle so far. Did you hit it this hard when you had yours?"

"No, not really. It was a busy night." A slightly self-conscious smirk. A hint of a blush.

The conclusion is obvious, and Sarah jumps to it with a laugh "Lemme guess, you got good and laid"

Bryce has a bit of a twinkle in his eye. "Like I said, I got lucky. Not only did I do mine in a place where liquor was plentiful, but it was also tropical, and it was in a decent sized city, so the night life was … pretty good"

Sarah laughs again, the laugh having a mix of admiration and contempt. "So you blast some poor bastard, and two hours later you're plowing some seniorita in your bungalow." She stands from her chair, contemplating another drink … contemplating on whether or not it'll actually be drunk if she pours it. It'd be a pity to waste scotch. A slightly gross thought hits her. "Did you pay for it?"

Bryce rises as well, and has a little laugh. "Three things. First of all, I got nothing but rave reviews. Second of all, no I didn't pay for it, at least not in the way you're thinking about it. And thirdly I learned something at Stanford. Every guy pays for it."

Sarah laughs again. "Hope she was worth the price of the rum & cokes" she snarks, her sky blue eyes taunting him.

Bryce meets her gaze with his own steel blues. "She was so good, I can still remember her name."

Sarah laughs again – and it's caught in her throat by Bryce's kiss. She's happy she decided not to fill the glass with scotch one more time. Her hands fly to his head, fingertips caressing his jaws. Her left hand slides around his head, runs her fingers through his charcoal hair and pulls herself into his kiss.

In a matter of seconds, Bryce has pushed her back against the closet door. His tongue aggressively swipes her lips. At the slightest opening of her mouth for admittance, it strongly moves in, and explores her mouth. Sarah's tongue revels in the contact, and belatedly tries to contribute, caressing his tongue, his lips, and his teeth.

Bryce's hands move with expert precision, as well as unashamed aggression. With quick upward motions of both his hands he's pulled the tails of her blouse out of her slacks. His fingers deftly unhook one button, then a second … all six buttons defeated far faster than she's ever experienced with a man. Sarah's tongue has only enjoyed the feel of Bryce's for what seems like only a few swipes, when her toned abdomen and oblique muscles react to the feel of Bryce's hands gently but firmly caressing them, circling around to the small of her back, and then sliding directly up to the clasp of her bra.

She gasps. The skin of her torso's not used to the chill of the room temperature so soon into a make out session. Sarah's used to sex being a somewhat predictable series of clothes coming off, and a steady parade of activities, each on being enjoyed and completed before the next one begins. Bryce is clearly a multi-tasker, and his preferred sexual motto seems to be "Shock and Awe". She doesn't know if it's the scotch, the confidence from accomplishing an important career task, or the melancholy from having committed a horrific deed, but tonight, she loves this. She's never felt so alive, so desired.

Bryce breaks the kiss to take one step towards her and the wall, pinning her body there. His fingers unclasp her bra, and the hands that owned them immediately fly back to his own head, and grab ahold of her hands. In another swift move, her hands are above her head against the closet door. Bryce comes in for another kiss, this one no less passionate. Their tongues meet, but then Bryce's mouth leaves to explore her neck. Simultaneously, his hands pull her hands and arms down to her sides, allowing his him to effortlessly let her blouse slide off and to the floor. With her bra already unclasped, it follows suit a second later. Bryce has been kissing her for less than a minute, and she's already half naked in front of him, gasping for breath.

Bryce moves his hands to her face as he kisses her again, freeing her own hands. Her competitive streak is aroused, and she gives a rough tug at Bryce's shirttails, pulling them out of his pants. Her feet kick out of her heels, and as she sinks the five inches or so, there is clearly a height differential. She's looking slightly up at Bryce. Her fingers begin fumbling with his shirt buttons, but at a clumsier and slower rate than Bryce's expert hands …

… which are on the move again, kneading her breasts firmly. When his thumbs flick her nipples she gasps into the kiss. Bryce pulls back just for the barest of seconds, his eyes taking in her naked torso, her chest heaving with her gasps. Having snuck a quick glance at her dress slacks, he returns with his whole body, pinning her to the closet door again. His kisses are slightly gentler, his tongue slowly massaging her mouth.

His hands slide down from her breasts to her taught abdomen, and seem to abandon her for the briefest of seconds. She can only feel his fingernails and knuckles around her navel as he unclips the hasp at the front of her dress slacks, and slides the zipper down the fly. Hooking his thumbs at her waistline, he strips her of both her dress slacks and her panties. He quickly sinks down to his knees to ease the panties/ slacks over her garters, suspenders and stockings just slow enough so that nothing catches and causes her pain. She's practically naked, clothed only in garters and stockings standing in a dark fabric puddle of her own clothes. With two more maneuvers, he cups his hands at the top of each thigh, first he left, then the right, deftly sliding down the garters to each foot. Now Sarah steps out of her stockings, as nude as a water sprite. An almost disbelieving laugh escapes from her throat. She's never been this naked this fast with anyone before.

Bryce rises again, slowly letting his left hand trace along her leg. He pauses at the very top of her inner thigh, just the barest measure from her hot and moist center. His lips find hers one more time, and as his tongue presses into her mouth again, he pushes his hand northward, the side of his index finger brushing between her labia, his knuckle gently touching her emerging clitoris. Sarah breaks the kiss to let out a moan, and as if in punishment, Bryce's hand is gone from her most sensitive area. Clearly he didn't have it there strictly for her pleasure, but for his curiosity. It's obvious that she is very, very wet. Both his sleeved arms now clamp around her naked body, pulling her into him. Her tight stomach can now feel his considerable erection behind a few layers of cloth. He's clearly been hard for a while, as she can easily feel the body heat from his loins against her naked skin.

Sarah can barely believe he's accomplished so much so fast – that he's achieved sexual power over her so decisively. She's completely naked, and Bryce still has a button or two fastened on his shirt. She has no illusions of–or any real desire to- seize back control this session, but still wants to show some aggression to set the tone for future encounters.

"You're falling behind, sweetie" she playfully chirps, unfastening his last two buttons. "Don't you want to catch up?"

"Been busy", Bryce says with a wolfish grin. "And from where I stand, _I'm_ way ahead of _you_". He presses her against the wall yet again for another kiss. Sarah laughs at the deftness with which he performs his next maneuver. He pulls his wallet from the pocket of his pants, slides a finger into the bill folder, and withdrawals a wrapped condom. Remarkably, he's able to do this without either breaking the kiss, or his stare into her eyes. _What a player! How many women has this guy had? _

_Oh, who cares?_ Sarah's response is to abandon the attempt to slide off his shirt, or to pull off his undershirt, and to dart her hands down towards his belt to free his erection. Attempting to mimic what Brice had done to her just a minute before; she hooks her thumb into the waistband of Bryce's underwear. She and Bryce are so close together that her downward glance doesn't even tell her what he's wearing, but the tightness of the elastic suggests briefs, not boxers. She'll have to be careful here.

She slides her left thumb around to his front, and her right around to his buttock, and gently, yet swiftly pushes down. Her fingernail slides along the engorged manhood, and the sensation informs her that his member is clear of the elastic.

Bryce kisses her again with a soft pleasured growl. He's already torn open the wrapper of the condom, and yet another swift motion, and yet again without really having to look, he's sheathed himself in the latex.

Bryce's hands move up her body again. She's now starting to slightly glisten from sweat. His hands massage her breasts, eliciting approving moans from her again, but then soon slide down to massage her firm buttocks.

Sarah has been curious as to when he planned to undress himself, or move over to the bed. When he grabs her buttocks and pulls with upward pressure, it's clear he has no plans to do either.

"Bryce, don't you want to take your clothes –"She's silenced by a kiss.

"Maybe later"

"Don't we need the bed?"

Bryce breathes into her ear "Maybe later."

Sarah responds into his ear with a breathy moan, as he slides his entire length into her. His thrust is forceful, unhesitating. She's not sure if he's supremely confident that it'll be pleasurable for her or indifferent as to whether it is or not. Neither would surprise her. But whichever it is, it's working. She typically prefers a bit more of a warm up, but not tonight. She's uncommonly hot, uncommonly wet, and uncharacteristically accommodating of his vigorous thrusts. She's been in a state of arousal for a half hour or so – the most consistent emotion or sensation she's felt all night since … since… since …

Her conscious thoughts begin to lose cohesion as her body begins to get into the rhythm of the act. Her legs wrap around his waist, her arms around his neck. As he pounds up and into her from below, she works with her leg muscles, her own weight and gravity to meet his thrusts.

Bryce maintains his tempo, and brings his right arm around her waist. It frees his left hand to come around and massage her breast again. He leans back, opening a gap between their bodies, and he slides his hand down to her clitoris, fluttering it on it slightly. Sarah moans, and as she does, he dips his neck and head down to her breast, kissing the nipple and taking it into his mouth.

The sensation is too much for her, and she moans loudly, as her orgasm rushes over her. Her arms tense and tighten around his neck, her legs clamp around his pelvis, and the walls of her torrid channel constrict along his latex ensconced member, gripping him along his length.

Her only two conscious and voluntary acts are to slide her hands down to grip his buttocks, and to make sure her mouth is up against his ear as she moans again.

This proves to be the end of the line for Bryce this night. With three final thrusts, each one punctuated by a grunt, his body stiffens all along his frame. He arches his back, his erection gaining perhaps another few millimeters of penetration inside her. As she gasps, she can feel his heat erupt inside her, a welcome warm sensation that the condom keeps localized.

He leans forward as he catches his breath. Her back is where it's been for the last five minutes-up against the closet door. He stops holding onto her, stops supporting her. Her legs unclamp from around his hips and pelvis, and she slides off of his member- which is now rapidly losing girth and length. Her back is still up against the door as she catches her breath. Bryce braces himself with his hands against the door, one on either side of her.

Within the space of a minute, perhaps two, she's already recovered physically. Now all she feels is the need for water. Ducking down under Bryce's arm, she gives him a soft hug around his waist, and purrs into his ear.

"Well._ I_ feel better." A soft kiss on Bryce's sweaty cheek. "Thanks".

Nude and thirsty, she pads to the bathroom. It's a fairly decent hotel, and two paper cups are provided. With a full water cup in each hand, she returns to the bedroom area. She's still quite drunk, so it's quite an effort for her to stifle the urge to laugh out loud.

Bryce might be a skilled seducer, with an unfathomably large list of female conquests to his name. He was no doubt the Big Man On Campus during his frat-boy days at Stanford- and very possibly at high school before that. Sarah will never know-and in fact will always have better things to do then to learn- how many cheerleaders, sorority sisters, liberal art major women have had the honor of hosting his cock for a few moments. His every mannerism during sex might howl "ladies man" and "player", but his appearance now is nothing short of hilarious.

His shirt is still draped on his shoulders, his undershirt still hasn't come off, and his pants and underwear are down around his ankles. In order for them to come off, his shoes would have to first. A gooey condom still hangs to his limp penis. He's only just now returned to normal breathing.

She shows mercy, and grins rather than laughs. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" she asks, proffering water. Bryce gratefully accepts, and drains the cup. His grin now is nothing short of goofy, a far cry from the confident, suave smile he had been flashing earlier.

"Get your clothes off – get in bed" she orders. Was he planning on standing there all night? _Did I break him?_

Slowly, almost as if he was aching, Bryce arranges himself. The prophylactic finds its way to the trash, and after a comical shuffle towards the edge of the bed - with his pants around his ankles- he plops down on the corner to flip off his shoes, and pull of his pants and briefs. He's naked from the waist down as he takes off his shirt and undershirt, finally – and quite after the fact- revealing his very well-muscled torso.

Still as naked as a daystar, Sarah pads around the foot of the bed to what will be her side. Examining Bryce's chest and arms, she grins. "Hey, these are pretty nice" she says as she draws a hand up his arm, to his shoulder and down his chest. "Maybe I can get a better look at them next time." Another wordless goofy grin from Bryce as he lies down.

Sarah's about to bed down as well, but noticed the bathroom light is still on. She hops out of bed to correct it, and along the way remembers to cap her new bottle of Cutty Sark.

Climbing back into bed, she sees that Bryce is both asleep, and also laying on his side, facing the outside of the bed. _Well, so much for any hope for round two tonight. So much for cuddling too, I guess._

To be sure, with all the alcohol, she wasn't entirely sure she was expecting either. Might have been nice for him to offer though.

_Guys will let you down, Walker._

_Nah_. She silently answers the annoying voice of Carina._ I had a bad night. I wanted to get laid. He was there. No expectations involved. He didn't use me any more than I used him. _

She slips into the ice-cold sheets. She's hopeful that Bryce doesn't snore, and maybe his touch can fuel a pleasant dream or two- perhaps one she can put into practice when they wake up.

Bryce doesn't snore. He doesn't star in the night's dream. The leading role instead belongs to a nameless brunette woman, lying dead in the street in her trench coat. Her chestnut hair is blackened by the blood that flows from the side of her head. A 9mm hole has blasted away the side of her skull. Her eyes snap open, and her lips move and lose a beseeching word to Sarah.

"Why?"

With a yelp, Sarah starts awake. She's naked, the sheets are rough with dried sweat. She whirls her head around to the other side of the bed.

Bryce is gone. A note is on his pillow, attached to Dr. Dreyfus' card.

_**Don't forget your appointment tomorrow- B**_

Sarah groans softly. She doesn't need the cuddling all the time. She can even look at it as a testament to her own power that her sexual conquest is too exhausted to stay up and chat a little. But to sneak out in the middle of the night? Not even to stick around and to hope for morning sex? That's pretty disappointing. There's no denying that her partner, while probably a competent agent, and certainly a capable lover, can be kind of an asshole sometimes.

_ Guys will let you down, Walker._

Sarah has no smug comeback to the Carina voice this morning.


	7. Sarah vs The Moment

**A/N : **

_Not too much to elaborate on this one. Sarah's mind's pretty much going to speak for itself._

_I don't own Chuck._

_Hope you're enjoying! Don't forget to review!_

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**Chapter 7- Sarah vs The Moment**

_2005 … 2005 … Mr & Mrs Anderson … Lisbon … El Dorado International Airport … Bogota _

She and Bryce are in the hotel room in Bogota. Sarah emerges from the shower, a towel about her head, and another around her. She pets the single rose that Bryce had shoplifted for her.

"Now that's just hilarious," Bryce growls as he rattles on his laptop. "We spend a month and a half collecting evidence of an illegal guns pipeline heading from manufacturers in the states to the Colombians, and just as we get it, their enforcer pulls a custom-made Colt on me. _Six weeks_ of paperwork and investigations, calling in favors from the ones in the Bogota PD who are straight, and this guy tells us in 20 seconds, what it took us six weeks to find out on our own."

"I'll bet the BATF will be thrilled to go poking around Hartford to find out who's been moving guns down south. Well, at least we got to see Bogota" Sarah grins. "And I got to be the heroine in this encounter" Her grin turns predatory, as she turns to Bryce.

"Oh, yes you did, Mrs Anderson" Bryce leers at her. "C'mere"

"Hold up there, cowboy" Sarah challenges. "I'm the heroine today. That means I call the shots tonight. Right?"

"But of course" Bryce says.

"Okay then," Sarah says, grabbing the ice bucket. "Step one for you is this; You go run down to the ice machine and fill us up for the wine."

"All right," Bryce obediently exits the room.

Sarah shuts the door behind him, abandons her towels on the floor, and opens her suitcase. She quickly finds a gorgeous crimson bra and panties set and slips them on. Immediately she jumps to the bed, and lies on her right side, facing the door. When she hears Bryce return, she strikes her pose, propping her head up on her right hand, her left arm draped along her side, her left hand down by her hip. She pops her blue eyes wide as the door opens.

Upon entering, Bryce is impressed. "Wow".

"Hmm" Sarah smiles sweetly at him. "Now for you to do step two"

"I think I know what that is" Bryce says as he puts the ice bucket near the head stand.

"I don't think you do. Stay right there" Sarah commands, holding out her left hand in a halt gesture.

Bryce stands there silently and tilts his head to the side, puzzled.

"Now", Sarah says, licking her lips. "Take your clothes off. Everything."

Bryce gives off a slightly embarrassed grin, but tries to comply with the unfamiliar request. Once his shirt is off, it's plain that he's looking more uncomfortable. A blush begins to form as he's stands bare-chested in front of her. His hands then move to the button on his slacks when he suddenly pauses.

"You're really going to make me do this, aren't you?"

"Oh, yes" Sarah stays firm. "My night, my rules"

The pants come off, and Bryce is clearly good to go right now, but his eyes give a bit of a distant look that Sarah has by now seen before. Bryce much prefers it when sex is on his own terms, not Sarah's.

"Don't worry sweetie" Sarah grins as she pats the bed in front of her, motioning Bryce to sit down. "I'll make sure you'll have a good time too".

Sarah knows there's a bit of fakery in her smile right now – she's ever so slightly disappointed and annoyed that Bryce is anything but enthused at sleeping with her. The notion that sex with her could be described as " Enjoyable…* " rankles her just a bit. Her ideal lover would not put any asterisks next to the experience of being ordered to undress for her.

Still, as Bryce gets into bed with her, putting his gun on the night stand, it's clear that there's no such thing as "ideal" in any of this. Ideal couples don't have "almost-died-and-am-happy-to-be-alive" sex as a baseline. Ideal couples don't hide their names from each other. Ideal couples have futures … plans … ideas about growing old and wrinkly together…. Sarah and Bryce spy, infiltrate, seduce, deceive, betray and on occasion, kill. Then they retire to the boudoir to drink and to toss each other around the bed and celebrate a victory. The only future to think about is "Next Time". "Next Time" could easily be "The Last Time" … the time when a bullet or a bomb, has one or both their names on it.

For the most part, Sarah's at ease with living in the moment, as her crimson lingerie finds its way off of her and onto the floor. For the most part she's able to enjoy the sensations of Bryce beneath her, inside her. For the most part, she's happy.

For the most part…

Perhaps an hour later, they drowse in the bed. Sarah makes a pillow of Bryce's admittedly fine pectoral. Bryce's attempts at cuddling are half-hearted at best. His hand sometimes lazily comes up from the bed to stroke her body, and then usually returns down to a resting position on the bed. The air conditioner at the two-star-at-best hotel can barely compete with the fact that it's been 104 degrees in the shade all day. Sweat glistens both Sarah's and Bryce's bodies as they lounge about on the bed, atop the covers.

Sarah's voice breaks the stillness. "So, what do you think the chances are of another mission before Christmas?

"Don't know… you know it's impossible to say."

"Mmmm. I know." Sarah purrs as she strokes Bryce's chest. "It's just that … Well I wanted to ask you something."

"Hmm?"

"Every year I do Christmas with my mom. I try to call her every few weeks when I'm not on assignment… but Christmas … it's usually the only time of the year I get to see her. Well this year … I've kind of let it slip that… umm" Sarah hesitates and starts again. "She knows that I've met someone, Bryce."

Bryce decides to tease. "Really? Who?"

Sarah smiles. "Heh. … oh, nice guy. Kind of quiet. Looks great with his shirt off. G-7 clearance. …" A sly whisper into his ear "… Likes it on top."

"Don't we all? I've met the type." Bryce grins.

"Huh. Well, long story short, Mom says I ought to try to bring you out to California for Christmas. Ever see California at Christmas?"

"A few times, yeah. My roomie back in college – his family was big on Christmas. You wouldn't think that Twilight Zone marathons would be a big Christmas tradition, but you'd be surprised. It can be kind of fun when you're buzzed on egg nog. His sister was a great cook. Pretty hot too – ow!" A wistful smile cut short by Sarah pinching his arm.

"Cheat on me again, and you'll get worse." Sarah snarks. Then she heals the arm with a soft kiss.

"So, Christmas with mom." Bryce muses. He looks pretty deep in thought, but she can't tell if he's seriously contemplating going with her, or putting a lot of thought into his excuse. "I'm not sure it's really a great idea."

Well, that little mystery solved.

"Right. Got it." Sarah's poker face hides her disappointment.

"What I mean is … We're not really like normal couples. I'm not sure it's a great idea to give your mom the impression that we are. I mean I guess it'll mean big questions about how we met, where I see myself in five years, do we have any serious plans? Are we going to give her grandchildren? Stuff like that?"

Sarah gives off a rueful grin … "Well yeah, I can't promise there won't be any of that. Although I do kind of like the idea of her being impressed that I found such a cute boyfriend."

Bryce's stiffening at the label makes it clear that she's lost this conversation on all counts. Sarah sighs – and retreats to her side of the bed. "Okay, fine. Bad idea. " She can still rely on her poker face to hide her disappointment. "One question. When I call her when I get stateside, and she asks if I'm bringing my 'boyfriend'" Sarah uses air –quotes at the word "should I correct her on her use of the word 'boyfriend'? My mom's not a big fan of profanity, so I can't call you a 'fuck buddy'. I'll have to think of another way to put it. " Well her poker face is in place, but she's not as good at keeping the ice out of her words.

"Well, you can just tell her the truth", Bryce defends.

"What's that?"

"We're partners … and It's complicated."

Sarah decides to drop the issue… out loud, anyway. _Am I being unfair? Is Bryce right? We don't have normal jobs. We don't have normal lives. Is it fair to expect him to be a normal boyfriend? Is it fair to want it, even if I can't expect it?_

Sarah grouses on her side of the bed. Bryce is right. It _is_ complicated. She's getting a little tired of Bryce being right about that.

_Guys will let you down, Walker. _

And Sarah is also getting tired of Carina being right about _that_.


	8. Sarah vs The Broken Dhalia

**A/N:** _The show is a little coy on what exactly Sarah & Bryce's status was at the very start of the pilot. "vs. The Nemesis" makes it plain that Bryce knew about Fulcrum when Sarah didn't, so they probably weren't working together. "…The Baby" confirms it and shows that Sarah is without Bryce – professionally at least- while in Budapest, immediately before being sent to Burbank. So the Sarah-Bryce partnership is either over or on hold. Bryce is Sarah's "ex"-partner … but is he her "ex"-boyfriend too? She still has the pictures from Cabo on her phone… is that because she'd be interested in picking things up again with Bryce when the Hungary thing was over? Just as soon as she's done with this Burbank gig? (heh-heh-heh ... if she only knew.)_

_ I already went on record a few chapters ago on how much the "Emotions Make Us Weak" philosophy is a clumsily built straw man, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to take one more shot at it. Wouldn't it be nifty if a proudly emotion-less character like Bryce played right into the hands of an opponent by being predictably emotionless? _

_** Be Ye Warned:**__Descriptions of violence.__We have Sarah relating something that's pretty dreadful and grotesque, including murders and rapes -and doing so with a professional detachment. There aren't many gratuitous details - at least I don't think so- but it's still some of the nastier stuff I've written. Tragically enough, the brutality of narcotics traffickers is a matter of record, and it's anything but far-fetched. As bad as the scene is, I once envisioned it as worse. I originally set the scene in Commandant Diaz's office. I got about two pages in before I realized that I was really creeping myself the hell out. (people squeamish over my Brarah copulation scene will be pleased to know I _do_ have limits) Starting over, I decided to set it in Graham's office. This paid three dividends. It gave us a degree of separation from Sarah's humiliation and two degrees from the video nasties. It also allowed Sarah to have it out with Bryce immediately following her statement. I also got to play with my Langston Graham action figure. _

_I don't own Chuck. The unseen, but much talked about Reynaldo Diaz is my idea though, and I'm thinking of using him in one of the other stories I have rattling around in this steel drum I call a head._

_The Sarah/Bryce scenes have caused a small - but mostly well thought out- backlash. I expected that, and I sympathize with the complaints. After all, we're all on this page to be entertained, and some folks just don't find Bryce/Sarah or Shaw/ Sarah entertaining. But I'm sticking to my guns and telling the story I envisioned. As implied by the title, Sarah, by being with Chuck, is going to regain and reconquer a lot of her optimism and hope ... and I don't think we can appreciate what she's regaining unless we examine what she's lost or was in danger of losing. (Spoiler alert) there's going to be a Shaw related chapter. (Other spoiler alert) I'm not going to post it until I can immediately post the Charah chapter we all want to read immediately after it. Shaw repulses me even worse than Bryce, and I'm not going to down that foulness of Sham without some sweet Charah to wash it down. If there's a lull between Chapters 11 and 12, you now know why._

_Hope you're enjoying! Don't forget to review!_

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**Chapter 8- Sarah vs The Broken Dahlia**

_2006… 2006… Benito Juarez International Airport … Commandant Reynaldo Diaz… investigation into corruption into Mexican Police…months of interviewing…tailing…contacting… And the mission goes badly…. Reagan National Airport … Langley … Langston Graham's office…. The mission has gone __**very**__ badly._

Sarah waits in the hallway outside of Director Graham's office. Her jaw clenched. Regulating her breathing.

"Assistant Director Graham will see you now, Agent Walker." The assistant ushers Sarah in.

The room is moderately lit. The dark forbidding voice of Langston Graham rumbles from the dark forbidding form behind the desk. "Agent Sarah Walker, April 28th, 2007" He gestures for Sarah to sit. She does. She has never felt more humiliated or discouraged in her life. The physical humiliation was what most people would call 'traumatic' or perhaps 'police brutality' … but it wasn't really too bad for Sarah. What galls her now is the humiliation of her and her agency being outflanked and outsmarted by a resourceful, patriotic yet ruthless Mexican policeman … Commandant Reynaldo Diaz. But he had surely had help. Had it been a leak? It had to have been a leak. He'd been too well informed for it to be anything else.

"Thank you for coming, Agent Walker." He gestures to the microphone on the digital recorder. "We're ready for your verbal statement on the unsuccessful outcome of _Operation: Broken Dahlia_."

"Yes sir." Sarah begins. "_Operation: Broken Dahlia_ was designed to ascertain the extent to which the Sinaloa Cartel had compromised the Mexico City Ministry of Public Safety. Agent Larkin and my mission was to insert ourselves into the itelligencia at the National Autonomous University of Mexico City, and cultivate contacts there with ties to the Mexico City Police. Agent Larkin's cover was of Bryce Anderson an American writer working on his first book about the Mexican-American War under the pen name Irving Charles Stanford. Mine was of Sarah Anderson, his wife, an interior decorator."

"After 5 months of our collecting intelligence on the status of the Mexico City Police, the local newspaper did an article on the new, uprising star of the Mexico City Police, Anti-Narcotics Commandant Reynaldo Diaz. 47, married and with six children, a graduate of UNAM, a veteran of the Mexican military, Commandant Diaz had -and has- a reputation as an honest cop, with no tolerance for subordinates who associate with even low-level drug pushers or smugglers. By all appearances, he has been working hard to combat the image of police corruption in Mexico City."

Graham nods and motions for her to continue. Sarah keeps her voice clipped and professional.

"About three weeks after the newspaper article was written, Bryc.. " Sarah corrects herself "Agent Larkin made an appointment to meet with a contact well outside of Mexico City at the town of Xalapa, by the Cerrro Gordo battlefield. He did not come home that night. The following morning I reported him missing, using the pay phone, per protocol to my handler, Kieren Ryker. Ryker instructed me to return to our house, report him missing to the police, to assume surveillance, and to contact him again if he produced the signal, a certain postcard in our mailbox."

"That night, in the middle of the night, our house was raided, and I was taken into police custody. I was not permitted to dress in anything other than my nightgown and an overcoat. I was taken under heavy guard to the police station, and to the office of Commandant Diaz."

"The office was fairly large, about the size of a bedroom. His desk was at the far end of the office and faced the door. There were two chairs in front of the desk, his chair behind the desk, and there was a fourth chair off to my left side, with its back to the wall. This fourth chair was between two privacy screens, such as might be found in a doctor's office. A video camera was pointed at this fourth chair. I decided that my cover called for an amount of fear, and so I began to cry a little. Commandant Diaz assured me that I was not going to be hurt. "

"There were two laptop computers on his desk. Commandant Diaz opened the first one, and accessed a video feed, and turned the computer around so I could see. It was closed circuit TV footage of Bryce. – I mean, Agent Larkin. He was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing when I last saw him 40 hours before. Other than being handcuffed to a chair, he seemed to be unhurt and in fairly good health. I found out later that he was being held in the police station basement.

"When I expressed concern for my … 'husband', Commandant Diaz informed me that my cover had been blown, as well as Agent Larkin's. He said that he knew that we were CIA and that his department had been told to beware surveillance by a husband/wife team of CIA operatives. Commandant Diaz explained to me that he was trying to clean up his department, root out corruption himself, and he then expressed anger that his department was being spied on, and then disappointment that the Agency would spend time, resources and agents in examining police corruption, instead of helping him sabotage, interdict, and destroy the actions of the Sinaloa Cartel. I clung to my cover story, that we were simply an author and an interior decorator, and that I had no idea about anything he was talking about. At this time I was hoping that he was only fishing, and that he did not, in fact know as much as he said he did."

"Commandant Diaz then began to speak to me about what he called 'our common enemy', the cartel. He asked if I was familiar with the some of the things that cartel habitually did to the families of informants and betrayers. I only let on to things that I felt regular civilian would know, just stories that I had read in the papers, and things I had seen on the TV news. That's when Commandant Diaz went for the second computer. He accessed the internet and brought up a video page. It was a page where Cartel members posted videos of their atrocities. They were posted on the internet for the purposes of intimidating would be defectors and informants. Commandant Diaz made me watch four videos. "

Sarah sucks in her breath and grimaces at the mere memory of having watched the horrible footage. It is peculiar. She has seen some horrors before, and witnessed the results of human cruelty. She has herself even killed in cold blood. But she's seen nothing to meet this. Just the footage has affected her worse than anything she has seen with her two eyes. With a deliberate control in her voice, she vows to fight back any temptation to allow any tears.

"The videos were worse than anything I'd seen. Teams of four or five armed men would enter a house in the middle of the night, and bring all the occupants into the living room. The wife and any daughters were brought to one side of the room. Any sons were sent to the other. The father, who in all cases was also the informant, or the target, was hand cuffed to an object like a radiator or a pipe rod. There, in full view of his family, he was beaten with baseball bats, enough to hurt him and to break bones in his arms or legs, but they avoided the head, leaving him conscious enough to watch what happened next."

Another sharp inhalation from Sarah. "At that point, if there were any other males in the house, they were simply executed with gun shots to the head, as their father, mother and sisters watched. " Sarah's attempt to control her voice is successful, but the effort shows, and is evident to Graham.

"Then, again in full view of the informant/ father the females were stripped naked, and one by one, gang raped by the assailants. They purposefully started with the wife, and worked their way down the daughters in descending age order, so each younger woman and girl could watch and see what would be happening to her in a few minutes. In the third video, the youngest daughter seemed to be about ten years old. " Sarah cannot keep the contempt from her voice any longer. "There were no holdouts. Each assailant did his part. Even with the child."

"When they were … finished … with the females, each one was murdered in front of the man with a gunshot to the head. The assailants then resumed beating on the man. He too was finished off with a gunshot to the head. The fathers were then buried in shallow graves nearby. According to Commandant Diaz, at least one of them had dust in his lungs when his body was recovered, indicating that he was not yet dead when buried."

"I was still making an attempt to maintain my cover, and I asked him not to show me any more. I pretended to become angry and asked him why he was showing me these horrible things. Commandant Diaz informed me that Agent Larkin was about to conclusively prove that both he and I were CIA Agents.

"He started the videos again and told me to look at the faces of the husbands as their wives were being stripped. Not one of those men had able to keep any kind of composure. They were frightened, ashamed, angry, appalled, and in shock as they watched their wives being violated. They cried, screamed, cursed, begged for mercy, prayed, and one begged his wife for forgiveness. According to Commandant Diaz, these men were not just low level drugies that had betrayed the cartel, they were businessmen who dared to blow the whistle. Normal, non-criminal people, mostly. One of the four was actually a narcotics agent. I again asked what any of this had to do with myself or Bryce. Commandant Diaz then told me what was going on with Agent Larkin."

"Commandant Diaz then informed me that he considered himself to be an honest and honorable public servant. His immediate subordinates were too. He promised that I was not about to be harmed. But he also informed me that as we spoke, Agent Larkin was being told a very different story. Agent Larkin was being interrogated by Diaz's Lieutenant, Antonio Sesma. Sesma's mission in the interrogation was to convince Agent Larkin that he and I had fallen into the hands of corrupt police forces, that he was soon to be executed, but before that happened, he would witness his wife – me- be gang raped and sold out to the cartel for their own purposes. Lieutenant Sesma apparently succeeded in giving the correct impression."

"After promising me one last time that it was all an act for Agent Larkin's benefit, and that I would not in fact be harmed, Commandant Diaz ordered three female police officers to come in. They brought me behind the privacy screens, and ordered me to undress. I briefly considered fighting them off, but that would have completely blown my cover, if it had not been blown already, especially if I had won. It also would have led to a whole company of police after me. So I maintained my cover as a frightened wife, and did not resist. It seemed evident to me that Commandant Diaz was sincere in saying he was not going to actually hurt me – he stayed on the other side of the privacy screen the entire time. He couldn't see me, but he and I could hear each other. "

"One of the women began to operate the video camera. A second woman brought the first laptop computer from Diaz's desk, and positioned it so that I could see Agent Larkin, but keeping the computer out of camera range, so Agent Larkin could not tell that I could see him. Diaz told me that Agent Larkin was being shown the video footage that I had just been shown, of the cartel members … destroying the families of the informers. Agent Larkin was then told that the same was about to happen to me, and that he was going to be forced to watch on his own monitor, what was happening to me, via the video camera."

"After the women had removed my nightgown, I was handcuffed to the fourth chair, the one between the privacy screens. The video feed was then activated at Agent Larkin's location. I could tell that he recognized me. And I could tell that he was falling back on his training. He was behaving precisely as he and I had been trained to do when we have reason to believe that our partner was about to be tortured. He set his jaw, and he locked his eyes on some part near the monitor, and focused on a single spot, either on the wall or on the monitor. He was concerned, clearly. But he was resolved not to show any weakness in the face of what he considered to be an imminent sexual assault on me." Sarah's voice has returned to normal, and now she betrays no emotion of the slight professional- and major personal disappointment in Bryce.

"Commandant Diaz then put the finishing touch on the show for Agent Larkin. He had four of his roughest looking male policemen enter his office, and undress as if they were about to sexually attack me. He then cut the video feed to Agent Larkin, but did not cut the feed of Agent Larkin's cell to me. He dismissed the male policemen, and they left as quickly as they had come. He then directed my attention to Agent Larkin's reaction. His face was set in the same way it had been for the last few minutes – convinced I was being tortured, and falling back on his CIA training to endure it. He was stoic and determined not to break at the battery of questions he was sure were coming his way. Diaz then reminded me that he himself was a narcotics agent, and had once worked undercover. He had been trained to endure torture – both his own, and the torture of comrades before his eyes. He recognized Agent Larkin's reactions as a widely accepted procedure in withstanding coercion. Larkin's professional demeanor was enough, he said, to out him as a CIA or other professionally trained agent."

"I was then uncuffed and allowed to dress into my nightgown and overcoat. I was informed that since our covers had been blown, both myself and Agent Larkin were in great danger from police who actually were corrupt, and that he had taken the liberty of buying airline tickets for both of us on the next flight from Mexico City to Dullas. Commandant Diaz then apologized for my humiliation, and explained the reason for the privacy screens. He said that unlike 'Mr. Anderson', he was a real husband, and had a real wife that he was responsible to. A real wife who would punish him if he leered at another woman."

"Commandant Diaz then expressed regret that the CIA was more interested in embarrassing the Mexico City police then directly attacking the cartel. He also said that the video footage of Agent Larkin and his reactions would soon be sent up the chain of command, all the way up to the president of Mexico. It will no doubt make for an interesting conversation piece with the President of the United States."

"Both Agent Larkin and I were dismissed from the police station, and were taken under guard to the airport. When we landed in Reagan, we immediately reported to the Agency, and Agent Ryker – still in Mexico City- was notified of our seizure and deportation."

"And that," Sarah concludes dejectedly "ends our participation in _Operation: Broken Dahlia"_

Considering the complete failure of the mission, or at least Sarah and Bryce's part in it, Graham seems to be slightly sympathetic. "Commandant Diaz is first and foremost a Mexican patriot, so far as we know. He doesn't take kindly to CIA interference in his little corner of the world." A heavy sigh from Graham's dark, rumbling form. "He's also a very clever bastard. He discovered a situation where CIA training and our agents' reliance on it could become a giveaway."

"Yes, sir" Sarah acknowledges "Agent Larkin behaved exactly the way at CIA agent is trained to behave when their partner is to be tortured before their eyes. Professionally and coolly. Unfortunately, such professionalism only convinced Diaz that he was CIA."

Graham heaves another sigh. "You can train agents to maintain a cover. And you can train agents to withstand coercion. It's not easy to train one to do both at the exact same time. People might argue that Larkin's reaction could mean any number of things … but Diaz isn't going to take that tape to a court of law. People in the know are going to come to the conclusion."

"Sir, if I may, Commandant Diaz knew to be on the lookout for a husband/wife team, but he kept referring to myself and Bry … Agent Larkin as Mr & Mrs. Anderson. If he knew our true identities, he didn't tell me so. Our mission was completely compromised, but I'm not sure our identities were. It's not my area of expertise, sir, but perhaps there's some sort of leak within the agency- from a source that knew of the mission, but not of our identities."

"Our thoughts exactly, Agent Walker." Graham admits. "Agent Ryker has already given his statement, and Agent Larkin is next. I suspect this is the last the world has heard of Mr & Mrs Anderson. We believe that Bryce has been compromised more badly then you have. You, Agent Walker, are to stand down until 13:00 hours on Saturday. Then you fly off to Budapest. Your next assignment waits you there. You'll be contacted by Agent Ryker upon arrival. Thank You, Agent Walker."

Sarah rises and leaves. At the parking level, she finds her car and makes the trip back to her apartment in Maryland… the one she shares with Bryce, for the next few hours at least.

She showers, she packs. Bryce arrives home a few hours later. He's greeted by the sight of Sarah with three rolling suitcases.

"How'd it go?" Sarah's question is concerned, but cool.

"Well," Bryce musters a rueful grin. "I don't have to work at the car wash. But it looks like my south-of-the-border privileges are revoked for the time being." Bryce's grin collapses in a matter of seconds though. Neither he nor Sarah are used to defeat or failure. Having their own training used against them is also something new and uncomfortable.

"They're putting me onto another assignment, Sarah. I'm not allowed to say what. But I'm probably staying in town." Bryce admits.

"Another assignment for me too. I'm on a plane to Europe."

"So much for the Andersons," Bryce reminisces. "It was good while it lasted."

"Hmmm" Sarah huffs. It's probably not fair to take out her anger at the world and the situation on Bryce, but he's handy. "It wasn't good enough, apparently."

"Sarah …" Bryce starts. "The mission went south. Someone sold us out. We were lucky to get out of there in one piece."

"You're right. Somebody made a huge mess. And we couldn't salvage the mission, because Diaz decided to peek behind the curtain. And he saw us for what we are. We couldn't pull off a married couple when it mattered… because we don't really know how. " Sarah muses.

"C'mon – the mission was blown. We were sold out." Bryce staunchly defends "Any cover can fall apart once somebody tells the other side what to look for. And you know better than anyone, Diaz went to pretty extreme lengths to break us."

The sense that something's been missing from her life with Bryce has finally found its voice. "That's my point, Bryce. Someone told Diaz what to look for … and "what to look for" could have been something as simple as "The Only American Married Couple Who Doesn't Really Know how to Act Married". The ones who, under threat, act like CIA Agents, not newlyweds. The ones who if you threaten the wife, the husband will act like an agent." Sarah temporizes … because she's not just talking about Bryce now. "I'm not mad at you, Bryce… I'm mad at the both of us. Usually we're really good spies. We get our covers down pretty pat. We own any dance floor we find, and at parties the guys compliment you on your 'wife', and the women talk about my hot 'husband'. We make friends when we're in-country. But we're not a couple, Bryce. We're a cover. A cover with a few vacations and some sex tossed in – just to make it believable to ourselves."

The conclusion chills her as her voice brings it out into English. "You're a good spy Bryce, but you can't convincingly pull off being in love, because you don't know how. And I'm not bashing you, because I'm not any better. I'm as clueless as to how a wife would react to watching the love of her life be torn apart as you are at the idea of a husband watching his beloved wife get gang raped, because somewhere along the line we missed out on anyone teaching us on what being in love means. To have a person mean more to us than a set of orders. We were taught how to mimic that at best. And it can fool most people. But you couldn't convince Sesma and Diaz that you were a husband, because you only know how to copy one. I would have had the same limitation. I can copy what a wife says and does, but I can't come up with the stuff that real wives have in their heads and the stuff they have in their hearts. " A long dejected sigh. "And I'm not even sure either of us ever will." _I know I'd like to …_is the part she keeps to herself.

Bryce just looks at her, at a bit of a loss for words. Any time Sarah has expressed dissatisfaction at his romantic abilities, he'd have his reliable rationalization that emotions were equivalent to an exploitable vulnerability. Plainly, it won't work here. Emotions were the one thing on the current mission that might have saved the day.

"My flight's on Saturday" Sarah says. "I'm going to spend a few days at a hotel or maybe with Carina if she's in town. I need to clear my head before Europe."

"See you when you get back?" Bryce asks, a hint of cautious hope in his voice.

"Maybe" Sarah whispers. "Probably." And then she leaves. _Almost certainly_, she admits to herself with a sigh. Bryce is one of the best spies in the business. Any limitations he possesses are very likely to be limitations found in most men in this field. Limits on emotions … limits on trust … limits on how close one can get to another… They are limits she herself shares… how many men in this world would she feel comfortable telling about who her father is? Where she went to grade school? High School?

Sarah makes her way to her car. It's a world of deceit, covers and illusion. One of the comforting illusions is that if someone else can understand the need for all that dishonesty, then you might be right for that person. But that's only an illusion. Sarah realizes that her being a spy doesn't make her right for another spy – it just makes her wrong for everyone. Bryce isn't right for another spy either. He's just wrong for everyone.

_Guys will let you down, Walker_

Sarah thinks she might understand why Carina embraces this philosophy. It's comforting, even if it's wholly untrue. It's a lot easier to think that there's something wrong with half of the world's population than it is to consider the possibility that she's now in the middle of a career that's loaded with men like Bryce Larkin. Of course the Bryce Larkins of the world don't have it all that much better, stuck as they are in a profession that's loaded with women like her and Carina.


	9. Sarah vs The Mark

**A/N: **

_I went slightly A/U in this scene. There were no water glasses at Chuck & Sarah's dinner table. _

_Ever notice that we never really learn what Sarah's plan is on her date during the pilot? Per her phone call with Graham, she wants to find out if the Intersect could be in a backup hard drive. How is she going to do this? Get herself invited to Chuck's house on the first date and visually check the place out? Casually ask him if he has one? Risk breaking in and catching Ellie and Devon? Fortunately the pilot is able to distract us with some shots of Ms. Strahovski in her black undies, Strahovski & Levi's wonderful chemistry on the date, and the very fun action/chase scene for us to notice any flaws in her plan, whatever it is._

_I actually liked the fairy-tale name I had for Bryce better – Sir Bryceland the Sleazy… but canon states that Sarah only learned of any bad blood between Bryce and Chuck in Chuck vs. the Wookie, so Sarah's not going to catch the Bryce connection here. Too bad._

_Sarah leaves Chuck her business card at the Buy More. I wonder what it says. I doubt it says "Sarah Walker" – Infiltrator-Burglar-Bodyguard-Assassin-Ordnance Disposal-Seductress. I'll stick with interior decorator._

_Sadly enough, Ellie is not a huge part of my story, although she'll surely pop up in random thoughts, dreams, flashbacks, and accounts by Chuck. Chuck and Sarah are of course in Paris, so Ellie and Devon are getting ready for the Congo in Burbank. It's a pity, because she's one of my favorites, and I love it when she shows her formidable strength and determination. I totally think this is something she'd do._

_I don't own Chuck. Donna's my idea though. It's interesting how the show never seemed to notice that Chuck's other love interests seemed to uniformly be petite brunettes. But other fic writers do- a lot. I figured that since I plan on going there anyway, I might as well take it to ridiculous extremes, and have one coo chastely at Chuck at the restaurant. Poor Sarah's not going to have to worry about keeping Carina the redhead away from Chuck, but make sure Zondra stays away!_

_Hope you enjoy! And don't forget to post a review!_

* * *

**Chapter 9- Sarah vs The Mark**

_2007 … 2007 … The mission in Budapest goes sideways … Keiran Ryker a traitor … rescue of Molly … Goodbye to mom … no more handlers … Bryce Larkin a rogue... A traitor… Bryce Larkin dead… The Intersect … The Intersect in Burbank… Bartowski_

"Two please." Said The Mark with a friendly grin.

She's next to the latest mark at the hostess stand. Soft Mexican music trills from the band onstage … and the uncertainly she felt at the parking lot of the Buy More yesterday is now worse.

_Guys will let you down, Walker._

Oh, she does have a mission to wrap up, and Carina's warning has never been closer to seeming completely true. Bryce hasn't just let her down, he's let everyone down. The entire free world, it seems. The Intersect was designed to hold all of the US's secrets, and Larkin ran off with it … to do what with it? God knows Larkin's contacted enough unsavory characters in his tenure at the CIA that the hellish possibilities are almost literally endless. Certainly beyond her imagination. Back on the Potomac, there's a bunch of tactical and strategic geniuses trying to think up different worst-case scenarios that could befall the US in the next 24 hours to the next 10 years … and even they're stumped. That's a special type of frightening. So much is unknown and so little is known. One of the few breadcrumbs the late Bryce left was the one man he had time to send the Intersect to, her current mark.

Fear and the sense of betrayal are compounded by frustration. She has a job to do, a mark to induce, and this particular one is… unique. It had been hard to think of this Chuck Bartowski as "The Mark" from the first few minutes, and it's only getting harder. He hasn't been acting very mark-ish. International arms brokers and information smugglers usually aren't known for their affability, much less their selfless compassion, and yesterday this mark charmed – and confused – her by going out of his way to put matters right for a young ballerina whose father had pooched the big dance recital.

Still, Sarah keeps her head in the game. Every counterintelligence officer knows the sad, sordid stories of Robert Hanssen and Aldrich Ames. Their motivations for betraying their country basically boiled down to money. They wanted more of it, so they sold out their nation to get it. Even General Benedict Arnold, whose ego played a key role in his treachery, was deeply in debt when he contacted the British to sell out West Point. Chuck Bartowski seems too sweet and innocent to play the game of high stakes espionage, but the man is clearly not rolling in wealth. Sarah had read his bio before initiating contact. Intelligent but underachieving. Kicked out of Stanford University in 2003. Low level supervisory position at the Buy More. Bank account never breaching above $3000.00 or $3500.00.

Not to mention the fact that he had picked her up tonight in Nerd Herder Three.

The hostess moves to seat them. They approach the wrap around booth, and Sarah finds herself on the small horns of a small dilemma. Should she sit on the left or on the right? The left side keeps her right/weapon hand free to move to the outside – useful in case The Mark makes some sort of attack. But it also means her back is to the restaurant's main entrance, and she won't be able to see any suspicious characters when they come in. Furthermore, having her weapons hand free on the outside means that if The Mark has any reinforcements or hired muscle, and they approach the table, her weapons hand could be pinned if they forcibly sit down next to her, not only blocking her escape, but leaving her pretty much defenseless. That won't do at all. Sarah decides to pop a step ahead of The Mark and slides into the right side.

"Oh! Ok than!" The Mark says as he claims the left seat.

_Damn! He's noticed! Cover it up!_ "I hope you don't mind." Sarah says sweetly. "I just like the light better here, that's all."

"Oh, no it's fine" The Mark grins with a hand wave. "I look better in the dark anyway."

Sarah laughs a little "Oh, I didn't mean it like that!"

"I know- that's fine!" He smiles.

Sarah views his grin and likes what she sees. He seems sincere, friendly …and most importantly at ease with himself. He has the easygoing relaxed style of someone who's just on the good side of the word "slacker" … not the stressed out concern she'd expect of someone finagling a multimillion dollar deal, legal or otherwise.

"Donna is your server, and she'll be right with you" the hostess informs before dropping off the menus and disappearing.

As Sarah sits down, and cranes her head around, she has an ulterior motive to go with her facsimile appreciative smile. "Mmm. This place is nice." _Main exit/entrance on the north wall, emergency exit on the south, restrooms off of a small corridor on the west wall, likely another entrance/exit._ Graham has told her that they'll be no support or reinforcement in this attempt to contact this mark, so she can't be too careful.

"Hello!" The waitress says brightly as she appears at the table "My name is Donna and I'll be taking care of – Oh, my God! Chuck!"

Sarah turns to regard the newcomer. Donna The Waitress is very young looking and exceptionally pretty, with long brunette hair. She immediately thinks that her red off-the-shoulder Mexican peasant girl top is a bit revealing … but that's actually not true. A quick glance around the room shows that it's simply the dress code for the female servers here. The males make do with untucked red shirts over their pants. It's not that El Gran Palacio markets their servers' good looks, like Hooters. Donna is simply good looking to the point that she ups the sex appeal of probably every outfit she puts on. Sarah knows the type. Sarah _is_ the type.

"Donna! Wow! I didn't know you worked here!" The Mark exclaims.

Donna comes in for a quick and unprofessional peck on The Mark's cheek. "Three weeks ago, when I turned 18! It's so good to see you again! Are you still at the Buy More!"

"Still there. I'm now in charge of the Nerd Herd desk. Donna this is Sarah, Sarah, Donna."

"Hi there!" Donna chirps merrily. "I used to work with Chuck here. Hang onto him – he's a sweetie." Donna clearly knows a date when she sees one. "Is Anna still working there? I loved her."

"Anna's still there and she misses you. Can I tell her you're here?"

"Yes! Do that. But don't tell …"

"Won't tell Jeff, won't tell Lester, won't tell Harry". The Mark grins. "Don't worry"

"Great!" Donna perkily beams. "Would you two care for anything to drink? We're very proud of our "de la reina margaritas" but be careful – they count as a margarita and a half".

"Sounds great!" The Mark says.

"Yeah, I'll have one." Sarah agrees.

"Salt or no salt?" Donna asks.

"Lots of salt!" both say in unison… immediately followed by a mutually amused and impressed look across the table. They laugh.

"Wow! You two are off to a great start!" Donna cheers, and leaves to get the drinks.

Alone again with The Mark, Sarah's more than a little curious as to what has just happened. She arches a charmed, inquisitive eyebrow her 'date's way.

"I probably ought to explain that." He says.

"Oh, I already know a little bit about Donna" Sarah says, giving an unforced grin. She's actually greatly amused at something Chuck … that is … The Mark …hasn't noticed yet.

"You two know each other? I thought you just got here." Chuck wonders.

Sarah grabs her napkin and dabs it in her water glass. "I know her just well enough to know that her lipstick kisses off." She offers him her wet napkin with a smile.

"Oh, Jeez!" Chuck says, accepting the napkin and frantically wiping at the spot Donna kissed. A blush quickly-and adorably- takes over his face. Sarah is entertained to the point where she laughs a little through her nose. "Anyway, Donna started working at the Buy More as a checkout girl two years ago, just when she got her working papers. It was her first job beyond babysitting. While she was there she sort of adopted me as a big brother. She'd time her lunch breaks to go with mine or Anna's, so that she didn't have to go to the lunchroom with Jeff, Lester or Harry. They were always hitting on her."

"Poor girl. Good thing she had her very own knight in shining armor." Sarah smiles.

"Never knew I had it in me. Maybe I should look into being a professional bodyguard. We're near Hollywood, so they're always in demand." The Mark grins.

Sarah's amused grin stays with another chortle through her nose, and she examines her menu.

Donna returns to deposit the margaritas, and they are indeed drinks to be reckoned with. After The Mark and she order, Donna collects the menus and disappears again.

"So are you a big brother in real life?" Sarah quizzes.

"No, actually I'm the youngest. One big sister. How about you?"

"One sister, but we don't really keep in touch anymore. It's not that I don't like to talk about it, it's just that there's not much to tell."

"Oh that's too bad." Sarah can see that Chuck's gaze is concerned and sympathetic, and she knows that if this Chuck Bartowski doesn't turn out to be a criminal, she's going to feel a little guilty for the arsenal of lies she has saved up for this date, including the one she just told.

She decides to temporize with the truth. "My dad moves around a lot. I still see him every once in a blue moon. How about you? Are you close with your sister?"

"Yeah we're close. Closer than most sibs that I met. We actually live in the same apartment. It's less weird then it sounds – and I know how it sounds. We kind of have been taking care of each other since an early age, so Ellie and I have been like each other's best friends our whole lives."

"That's …. Actually kind of sweet" Sarah says. "And Ellie's a really pretty name" Sarah allows a thoughtful look to cloud over her eyes. Having friends and family does not, in itself, take this mark off the hook. Lots of criminals have friends and families. But the tragedy is certainly deepening, if The Mark is involved in any of this.

He continues. "So yeah, I live with my sister, and her boyfriend, Captain Awesome"

Another guffaw from Sarah at the ridiculous nickname "No!"

The Mark stands firm "It's true though!"

Sarah can still barely believe her ears "So .. so wait. You call him 'Captain Awesome'?"

The Mark nods "Yeah, wait 'till you meet him". Sarah can't help but to be charmed by this. For some reason Chuck is convinced that he's won her over to the point that she'd surely say yes to a second date – and following that a relationship that lasts long enough for her to meet his family. It might seem to be ever so slightly arrogant, but Chuck has enough sincerity in his eyes that she can't be offended….

"Everything he does is awesome. Climbing mountains, jumping out of planes. Flossing." … or maybe he was just setting up a little joke. Now Sarah's really entertained.

"That's funny" she laughs.

"Well, I'm… I'm a funny guy" The Mark says, greatly encouraged that he's making her laugh.

"Clearly!" Sarah declares. "Which is good 'cause_ I_ am _not_ funny." Typically making small talk with a mark isn't so easy for her- it's a bothersome chore to set the target at ease before she can get to the questions she really wants to ask. But she's finding talking to this particular mark pleasurable and easy.

"Is that your big secret by the way? Because I've been sitting here trying to figure out what's wrong with you…" Chuck keeps his grin up.

"Oh… plenty, believe me" Sarah introspects for a second_. If more people knew about my life, they'd probably all agree that that was one of the truest things I could say._

"And I was thinking 'either she's a cannibal, or she's really not that funny' … and I was pulling for 'cannibal' because I've never met one before." Another grin from Chuck and Sarah is beginning to find his smile contagious. Now her grin is completely involuntary.

"Uhhhhh ….. _not_ a cannibal." She says through her smile "But I did just come out of a long relationship, so I may come with baggage."

"Well I could be your very own baggage handler." Sarah can see Chuck wince and grimace as the words sound much sillier and probably a bit more suggestive then they probably did when they bounced around his head.

Sarah has dealt with marks that have joked their way through drinks and dinner before. It's a favorite tactic of men who are insecure about their looks- particularly when they are attempting to impress a woman who _they_ feel is nothing but secure in the way _she_ looks. But like all tactics, there are risks associated with it. Tell too many jokes, and eventually one will fall flat. Talk too much and you'll eventually say something dumb-sounding. Like that for instance.

Sarah's discipline is already beginning to crack. When a mark makes an ass of himself, the standard procedure is to react pleasurably to every word … every dumb comment, every _really_ stupid observation, every display of ignorance, and every disgustingly sleazy come-on and double entendre … it's a seductress's job to encourage The Mark to keep talking, in case he'll get around to something useful.

But Sarah just gives him a stare, and a slightly shocked grin, as if she'd just watched a vaudeville act pratfall onto the stage. She simply can't resist taking a few seconds off the job and simply acting as a date whose wannabe boyfriend put his foot in his mouth. _Is this the kind of fun women have when they go on real dates? Dates that don't have to be cut short by a trip to the airport to intercept a shipment of saran gas?_

Chuck seems to abandon any attempt to salvage his harebrained joke and changes the subject. "Uh, so ... the guy…. The ex… the guy. The ex is the reason why you moved here from …"

"Uh, D.C." Sarah provides. It feels good when the truth matches up with her cover.

"Right"

"Yeah. After I realized that all of my friends were his friends, and that everything about Washington reminded me of …_" Don't say Bryce! It's not a common name! How many Bryces can a person have in their life? "_… Bruce… I needed a change. A big one."

A lie and a truth. _Yes, all of Washington reminds me of Bryce. No, he and I didn't have many friends._

"'Bruce?'… " he grins, "Yeah – you give me crap about being 'Chuck', and you went out with a 'Bruce'? That's nice. That's real good."

Another natural laugh from Sarah, and she feels a blush coming. That was a trap she stepped in herself, and the self-deprecating irony is delicious even to her. When she had flirted with him yesterday, she had teased him about his name. Now Chuck can tease her about her boyfriend's name.

"So what about you? What skeletons do you have in your closet?" Professionally, Sarah would like to keep the topic of conversation on Chuck. Personally, she's none too fond of that many questions regarding her past_. Perhaps something interesting happened to you hmmmm? Perhaps you came into some secret government files? Perhaps you have some expensive habits that could provide a motive for getting mixed up in all of this?_ "Any secrets? Any women?"

"Uh… yeah... yeah... actually … Well back in college there was someone…" he paused as if suddenly remembering something "Actually that's all over with now. And her restraining orders are very specific... So ..."

Sarah's smile is now sincere. "I like you, Chuck" _Ok, I stand corrected._ That's_ the truest thing I could say tonight._ She sips her margarita. _Graham said nice guys aren't sent government secrets. He's wrong. I don't know how he's wrong, or why he's wrong, but he's wrong this time._

Chuck takes a swig of his own margarita from the rim, enjoying the salt, and giving a slight lick on the corner of his mouth. "Well…" he begins "I like you too -which is why I don't think you should let him get away with it."

"Let who get away with what?" Sarah asks sweetly.

"This Bruce character. I can understand letting an ex have a song, or a movie or maybe a restaurant, but an entire city? I don't think you should let him have Washington DC all to himself. You need to take DC back from him someday. You need to go back and replace the memories you had in DC with new, good memories. You take a really good friend or maybe …" Chuck gives a self-conscious blush here, aware that his next point might be a little self-serving, "… your next boyfriend. And you take them to DC with you and you take back the city. Check out the museums… tour the White House… play charades with the Vice President, whatever you DC people do for fun..."

This time the aim on Chuck's sense of humor is true, and Sarah's giggling uncontrollably.

"… and by the time you're done, DC will be a friendly town again, and you won't have to associate it with Bruce."

Sarah shakes her head a little, but keeps her smile. "Sounds a little like… "

Donna wordlessly arrives with Sarah's grilled chicken Caesar taco salad, and Chuck's SouthWest burger.

After an appreciative smile at Donna, Sarah continues. "…sounds a little like an exorcism."

"One of my profs at Stanford had another word for it. '_Reconquista'_! This guy was really good, and his was the only world history class that I really liked. It had to do with the Spanish who took a few hundred years to throw out these invaders … who came from some place or other. I forget"

Another laugh from Sarah. "Clearly one of your favorite classes!" After a pause for a second "So, _Reconquista_? What's it mean?" She plays dumb. Not only is Sarah fluent in Spanish as well as four other languages, and conversational in an additional six, '_Reconquista'_ is a cognate; sounding and reading far too close to 'reconquer' to possibly mean anything else.

"He told me it meant The Reconquering." Chuck explains. "Just like the Spanish reconquered Spain you can reconquer any good restaurant, or movie or song that reminds you of your ex- or other bad memory. So if you have a favorite movie that reminds you of a bad time, you invite a few friends over for a DVD night, and you claim the movie back for your very own. I once associated the movie _Dante's Peak_ with something bad, and ended up taking it back."

"Huh." Sarah says through a smile. "I've never considered that. So you think it can work for something as big as city?" It probably _would_ be nice to visit the Air and Space Museum without having it remind her of Bryce.

Sarah's barely noticed it, but she's fallen almost completely out of seductress mode, and is simply enjoying her date with what is clearly a clever and warm-hearted guy. Chuck could perhaps make use of a fashion consultant, and could surely benefit from the attention of a barber, but between his wet amber eyes, and his ready smile there's definitely a good looking man across the table from her. She now has no doubt that Chuck means no ill towards her – and probably not towards anyone – and she'll have to be careful that she doesn't let Chuck touch her lest he feel the Kevlar vest under her uncharacteristically modest outfit. Considering how much fun she's having, that might be a challenge.

"It does work." Chuck insists "I did it myself! I took back San Diego a few years ago. "

"Really," Sarah asks, with a hint of challenge in her voice. "how?"

"Well it _is_ kind of a long story." Chuck hesitates, and then gets a twinkle in his eye. "Actually it's kind of an epic saga"

"Too bad," Sarah comes back with an assertive grin, and a challenging flash of her eyes. "Tell me how it worked".

"Okay" Chuck rubs his hands together dramatically. "Once upon a time, in the land of Stanford, there was this regular guy, Charles of the Echoing Park. And he was there to learn how to be an engineer. Engineering wagon wheels, bridges, breadboxes, things like that. While there, he made the mistake of making friends with the bad guy of this story, Sir … Barry the Sleazy … from the Swamps of New England".

Yet another laugh from Sarah "He made friends with a person titled 'Sleazy'?"

"Well, yeah, he didn't always go by that. He was a crafty villain you see."

"Uh huh" Sarah's face is starting to hurt from smiling so much. Chuck has a bit of a flair for the dramatic. Maybe he does community theater, was in a school play or takes a creative writing course …

"Well anyway, Charles and Sir Barry were inseparable. For three years they were side by side, living in the same boarding rooms, attending the same campus jousting events, learning to drink at the same taverns, dram shops and ale houses, and being inducted into the same… Sacred Order of Brotherhood. Meaning that they got to move to a nicer castle, which was really cool. Two better friends you've never met."

"Then one day, it all went bad. Sir Barry the Sleazy spread dreadful and scurrilous lies, slanders and falsehoods about our Charles, and the Elders of Stanford decided to send Charles away. Not a good time for our boy Charles. "

"He went home to the Echoing Park, and moved in with his sister, Lady Eleanor, the Kindly Physician and her beau Devon, the Amazing Apprentice Surgeon. He then started working for the Guild of Repairmen and Installers at the local village."

Despite the fact that this is probably a painful chapter in Chuck's life, he doesn't pout or even lose his grin. Rather, he seems to be proud of his creativity. Sarah laughs again, like she's been doing for the last few minutes. Clearly Chuck is good natured – even about things of which he should be resentful. By now she's also noticed that Chuck really likes to see her laugh.

"Anyway, the Reconquista comes in at about this time. While they had been friends in the Land of Stanford, Sir Barry the Sleazy had introduced Charles to this grand event in the Kingdom of San Diego every summer - The…. Festival of Comics. The two had a great time every year they had gone, Charles because comics and sci-fi are right up his alley, and Barry because he liked hitting on women dressed up in costume. It was a fun trip for both involved."

"When Charles returned to the Echoing Park, everyone tried to cheer him up. It was no easy task, for our boy was truly down in the dumps. One day Lady Eleanor, the Kindly Physician decided that she would take him down to San Diego to the Festival of Comics. At first Charles didn't want to go, since he'd always associated that Festival with Barry the Sleazy. But Lady Eleanor insisted, and convinced her beau, and Charles' best friend- Squire Morgan of Grimesly- to play along. And so in that otherwise dark year of 2003, Charles, Lady Eleanor, Devon the Amazing, and Squire Morgan of Grimesly dressed up in costume and attended the Festival of Comics. And so the Festival of Comics was reconquered! Charles's first Reconquista! The End."

Sarah's grinned through the story, and has been gazing into Chuck's eyes the whole time. She's smiling at being genuinely entertained, and it's clear that Chuck's quite a talker- and in telling a story, the man is playing to his strengths. Sarah has to work to keep in mind that she should have her ears open for any possible mention of the Intersect, or the status thereof, but she's still having a genuinely good time.

"And do you think that means that Lady Sarah the … Hmm. I wonder what my title would be in this story" Sarah muses aloud.

"Well what is it you do?" Chuck asks, trying to remember her card. "Interior decorator?"

"Interior decorator" Sarah reminds.

"Hmm. Lady Sarah … the Mistress of Tapestries." Chuck thinks for a second, and grins.

Again Sarah laughs out loud, so much that her Kevlar vest hurts a little bit. "So Lady Sarah the Mistress of Tapestries, on advice from Charles, whom she met at the …" She furrows her brow at trying to remember Chuck's details.

"Repairman's Guild, let's call it".

"Right. So Charles tells Lady Sarah to _Reconquista_ DC from her ex … Sir Bruce the … Unfaithful."

Chuck breaks storyteller mode and frowns. "Ugh, cheater?"

Sarah sighs. "You have no idea."

"Well, without getting into details, I'll just say that I've been there too". Chuck's eyes crinkle a little at no doubt a painful detail.

Sarah's compassion is again real. "Sorry to hear about that. "

"Oh it's okay. She got eaten by a dragon." Chuck smiles again, once again eliciting a giggle from Sarah. "Maybe he'll fly to DC and take care of Bruce for dessert."

Falling out of seductress mode one last time, Sarah asks with an insistent grin- "Wait- you said everyone dressed in costume- do you have any pictures of this?"

Chuck blushes… "Yessssss, I do. I'm not sure if you want to see them though, it's sort of nerds-on-parade."

"Ohhh, I do indeed" saysSarah, and flashes Chuck he most amused smile.

Obediently, Chuck pulls out his wallet, and pulls out a wallet sized picture, and hands it to Sarah. She can't suppress the grin. Chuck is hardly recognizable wearing an outfit that she knows is Batman, the cowl mask covering the top half of his face. The only woman in the picture, Ellie no doubt, is strikingly pretty, with long black hair, and is very successfully wearing a Wonder Woman outfit. She's apparently getting into the part, with a dramatic, fists-on-the-hips pose and a big smile.

Although Ellie's tall, the man to her left is even taller, and impressively muscled. Despite his blondish hair, he makes his Superman costume work well. His smile seems a little more forced, but he's being a good sport, and if that's the Captain Awesome boyfriend, he's probably enjoying his girlfriend in the Wonder Woman getup.

Sarah recognizes the short bearded man from the Buy More. He stands next to Bat-Chuck, and is wearing a red costume with a lightning bolt on the chest, and nothing about it fits well. The red gloves, yellow belt, and red cowl mask all seem to be at least two sizes too big. But he's smiling as if he doesn't notice or care. It's clear this is the picture of a very fun time.

"Wow"", Sarah says, genuinely impressed. "Looks like this Reconquista worked out."

"It did", Chuck smiles. "But I typically don't bring it out on first dates. You're actually pretty special now."

Sarah's enthralled to be so elevated – so much so that she needs to jar herself to get her head back into the game. The mission seems like a waste of time -a pleasurable waste of time.

"I was wondering if you'd be mad at me if I tried to talk shop for a minute." She purred, sending yet another shy smile towards those big brown eyes.

"Sure- although what I know about interior decorating I could fit into the glove compartment of the Nerd Herder." Chuck smiles.

"No, no. It's about computers. Some of us decorators are going high tech, and want to give our customers sort of a virtual reality thing when envisioning their kitchen, or living room, or whatever."

"Okay." Chuck nods.

"I was wondering if you have any advice on computers. Like what kind do you have?"

Chuck's happy-go-lucky look clouded over. "Actually … something bad happened to my computer last night. It's kind of broken. That's actually why I didn't call you last night; I was a little down in the dumps about it."

"Oh, I'm sorry" Sarah pretends to sympathize. "Did you lose anything important?"

"Not really. I only do things like video games on there, and most of those I buy honestly with CDs."

"I was wondering if you have any experience on one of those backup things. One of my co-workers says that it's like a box that you attach to the USB thing on your laptop and it practically doubles the machine's memory."

"Oh, that's an external hard drive you're talking about." Chuck perks up. Clearly a topic well inside his comfort zone. "Yeah, depending on which one you get, you can practically double your space for documents, but it's more often used for songs and movie clips. It'd be really handy if you do something virtual reality for showing off a space. DJs use them too, since they're good at storing a _lot_ of songs."

"See, now I always thought an external hard drive was one of those tiny things about the size of your thumb!" Sarah blatantly lies.

"No no. That's just called a thumb drive. It can't hold nearly the same amount of stuff. A few disks worth, and that's it. If you're really looking to up your laptop's memory, you want the bigger thing, the external hard drive. We sell them at the Buy More. "

"I might look into one." Sarah beams, putting on an impressed looking act. "Tell me- which one do you use yourself?"

"Oh, I don't have an external hard drive. I really don't need one for myself at home. Like I said, most of my video games are on CDs, so nothing's going to happen to them. I didn't lose much when my computer … got crashed."

_B-I-N-G-O! And Bingo was his name-o!_ Sarah silently gloats. Mission accomplished. No backup drive means the only Intersect files were destroyed when she broke in and trashed the computer tower. Good. Sarah will probably be flying back to DC on the red-eye tonight, but barring unforeseen circumstances, there's no reason why she can't enjoy the rest of her date tonight. It's just a shame that she'll probably never have to see Chuck again…

… barring unforeseen circumstances, of course.

* * *

An attack by John Casey's NSA team, liberal use of her throwing knives, the breaking in of her knockout-drop hair pins, a backwards car chase, the totaling of Nerd Herder Three, the totaling of Casey's SUV, a helipad standoff with Casey, the revelation of where exactly The Intersect is currently located, a bomb at the Pan-Pacific Security Council Assembly, and the Irene Demova virus make Chuck – the unlikely holder of government secrets- an even more unlikely hero.

_ Yeah, the night had some unforeseen circumstances-_ Sarah admits to herself, as she walks up to the beach, the rising sun behind her. She takes a deep breath. He hadn't been ready for the news that Bryce Larkin was dead. Now it's time to break several more layers of bad news to Chuck.

Horrible people are going to be after the secrets that are in his brain.

He's going to be tightly controlled for the next few days … At least.

The CIA and NSA will try to rally together the best head docs to try to extract the Intersect from his mind. But _practically_ nobody had had any idea that it could be downloaded into a person in the first place, and _absolutely_ nobody has any idea if it can be taken away.

Chuck can't tell anyone what's going on, not even the nearest and dearest to him. As far as his world's concerned, she, Sarah is his new girlfriend. This gives her unlimited access to him whenever the government needs to make use of him.

If Chuck's life becomes too dangerous, her and Casey's mission will be to secure Chuck and send him someplace safe – where he'll never see his friends and family again. It's a bunker – that's what it's called- but it's more like a tomb for people who haven't died yet.

There's a gut instinct that she simply can't share - Sarah wouldn't put it past her own Agency or the NSA to "secure" Chuck in a more decisive –and cheaper- way, with two 9mm slugs to his brain stem. Happily she's received no instructions on that note.

Sarah now has her boots off, and enjoys the feel of the sand under her bare feet and between her toes. She gives a sigh. She's now in a one-of-kind position … assigned to look after someone whom she already knows is a one-of-a-kind man. He doesn't want this. He's a rare unwilling asset. Part of her feels sorry for him … and another subsurface part of her is deeply impressed by him. The Intersect should not have gone into a civilian … but if it had to be in a civilian, she's glad it's Chuck. Kind-hearted, altruistic, compassionate, brave … he's paraded enough of his good points past her in the last 36 hours that she knows that he's a good person. This of course accentuates the problem. A good person like Chuck doesn't deserve the lifestyle that's about to befall him. Hopefully it won't last long.

There's yet another facet of Sarah that is ever-so-secretly happy for herself. Before the knifing of the NSA agents, the wrecking of two cars and the bomb defusing pornography … she really had been enjoying her date with Chuck Bartowski. Lives and lifestyles like his are simple, honest, warm … filled with people who care about him. Even though it'll all be an illusion for her, it might be nice to have a small taste of it.

_ Guys will let you down Walker._

Carina is certainly right about Bryce Larkin, it seems.

About Chuck she's both wrong … and right. Chuck thought fast, acted quickly, and survived the first round of a battle that he had no preparation for. He's performed magnificently for a civilian. He hasn't let anyone at all down in that regard.

On the other hand, Sarah had been convinced that Chuck was just another mark –a pipeline for intelligence –to be used and discarded at best, a villainous criminal who needed to be taken down at worst. It would have made Sarah's job so much easier had Chuck been so easy to figure out-so easy to know what to do with … and how to feel about. But Chuck has let her down in that regard, and is neither of the above. Chuck is Chuck. Like it or not, Sarah's capacity for feeling for someone is no doubt about to expand drastically.

The sun had just risen, warm on both her and Chuck's back … and a new day had truly begun.


	10. Sarah vs The Asset (Part 1)

**A/N:**_I wanted to use this chapter to revisit a few of the key Charah moments (what to we call Charah moments before "vs The Other Guy"? Charah Lite? Diet Charah?) in Seasons 1 & 2__. Obviously I didn't want to do too many, as I assume most of the fans here have already seen them. Still, I couldn't resist the urge to put some thoughts in Sarah's head at a "few" key moments._

_That was the plan anyway. It ended up being a massive Chapter 10. So I split it. _

_The lion's share of this chapter takes place in the brief "Lou Arc" – "vs The Truth," and "vs The Imported Hard Salami". I regard the arc as home to the first few real Charah moments. Despite our heroine's declaration that she fell for our hero on pretty much day 1 or day 2, Sarah spends the first 7 episodes with her cards very close to her Kevlar vest. You could be a newcomer to __Chuck__, watch any of the first 7 episodes, and never clue into Sarah having feelings for Chuck, although Chuck of course wears his emotions on his sleeve. Ellie and Carina seem to pick up on it though. Speaking of Carina, Sarah doesn't even seem that romantically jealous that Carina lured Chuck to her hotel room, just professionally protective._

_Observations by E & C aside, Sarah does look like she's trying to sell the idea that her Lou concerns are professional throughout most of "…The Truth", too, until the very end. After that, it's like she can't even be bothered with the façade anymore. Her motivations for crashing the date with Lou in " vs the Salami" are almost as transparent as her actions in "vs. the Wedding Planner", and her gleeful smile from the van is impossible to miss. And that's before the big moment at the docks._

_From then on, Charah is simply a fact of the show, and hooray for that. (It's Awesome!)_

_A few good fanfic writers seem to believe that Sarah wore her purple outfit in " vs the Truth" just to torment Chuck, or at least to bring his attention away from Lou and back to her. It's an okay theory … except we __**see** what Sarah can do with her wardrobe when she's really trying to seduce/impress Chuck (Honeymooners, Seduction Impossible, Coup d'Etat, The Zoom)– or anyone else (Crown Vic, Nacho Platter)! I think the purples were her __**least**__ revealing sexy outfit! It just goes to show that it's not the outfit; it's the lady wearing it. Sarah Walker/Yvonne Strahovski could probably make a Hefty lawn and leaf bag or an empty Idaho potato sack work if she really tried._

_Don't forget to review! It means a lot!_

* * *

**Chapter 10 – Sarah vs The Asset (Part 1)**

_2007 … 2007 … Dr. Zarnow … La Ciudad … Carina and Peyman Alahi … Mei-Ling Cho and Ben Lo Pan … Laszlo Mahnovski … Dr. Fleming and Magnus Einerson … double date with Ellie and Devon ..._

Coffee is brewing, and Chuck's emotions are threatening to get the better of him. Again.

Sarah's finding the task of keeping him calm without resorting to a tranquilizer dart to be challenging. Again.

It's a tough row to hoe to convince Chuck that he needn't worry about Ellie. Yes, she got into an ambulance with a man who Chuck flashed on. But Ellie would help anyone who collapsed in front of her. She's a doctor after all. On the other hand Chuck _had_ flashed on the unwell man … and the people who tend to star in Chuck's flashes also tend to be the kinds of people neither Chuck nor Sarah want around his sister – murderers, terrorists, arms dealers, information brokers, kidnappers and suchlike.

Funnily enough, Devon of all people is having a calming effect on Chuck, giving him sex tips, believing that Sarah's lingering at the apartment means that her relationship with Chuck is going to hit the physical level. It's not that he's actually _calming_ Chuck, but he is inhibiting him, and Sarah's grateful for the few minutes of relative quiet. Of course… Devon's observations do bring up another point that's likely to cause more emotional tension for her already emotional charge.

Spies aren't supposed to have emotions. Emotions are distractions that can lead to errors – in a business that is notoriously unforgiving of errors. That's how Sarah has learnt it, it's how Bryce learned it, and it's how Casey learned it. The forlorn hope is that someone will teach it to Chuck. For all his good points, it's clear that Chuck's a slow study on this lesson. He follows the directive "Don't freak out", about as studiously as he does "stay in the car".

Although Sarah believes her own emotions to be in check, she has learned right off the bat not to demand the same from Chuck, and she chastises or encourages Chuck's feelings on a case-by case basis. On the one hand, Chuck's emotions have come perilously close to getting himself – and Casey and she killed. On the other hand, they do lead to some resourceful outside the box solutions, and the results are hard to argue with. His emotions also prove contagious. Chuck's charm and sincerity has softening effects on people who should know better- have prided themselves on knowing better.

Carina has been in town just about a month ago – predictably sowing complications in her wake. As a result of Carina's improvising, Sarah had found herself at gunpoint –not for the first time, granted. What was unexpected was that Carina and Chuck had come to her assistance – mostly because Chuck had guilt-tripped Carina into doing the selfless thing for once. Sarah wishes she could have seen the look on Carina's face as her formidable resolve melted under Chuck's basset hound eyes – he probably made her feel as if she were about to drown a pillowcase full of hamsters. The very thought of Carina's selfishness collapsing makes Sarah smile. It's almost always Carina who manipulates and controls men. That time Chuck had the reins.

It wasn't long after that Chuck was able to make the emotional argument that Casey and Sarah should assist Chinese spy Mei-Ling Cho in rescuing her brother. That unorthodox stratagem resulted in the destruction of a Chinese mafia ring, Mei-Ling Cho defecting to the US, and a no doubt lucrative seam of intelligence for the West to access. The whole thing defied conventional spy logic. It really defied any kind of logic at all. Chuck just felt he had to help a poor woman save her brother.

Just last week, Sarah had learned that Chuck's good nature had even gotten to someone who she had always thought was proudly emotion-less. Years ago, Bryce Larkin, of all people, had felt his protective side motivated by … however Chuck was back in their frat days. Sympathy for Bryce Larkin was not something that came naturally to either Sarah or Chuck by now … but apparently Bryce had vehemently opposed Chuck's recruitment to the CIA on the grounds that he was just too nice a person to live through it. So Bryce sacrificed his friendship with Chuck to protect him.

Sarah sighs as she readies the coffee mugs. Chuck, bag of emotions that he is, no doubt has a history of bringing out peoples better, more selfless sides. Maybe he'll get to her too – if he hasn't already. Surely he will. Surely he has. Sarah has tried hard to tell as few lies as possible to him – but Chuck had obviously taken it hard when he had found out that she and Bryce had a past. Nor was he altogether content to know that so little of what he knows about her is authentic. The only thing he's confident of is that she doesn't like olives on her vegetarian pizza.

Emotions may be par for the course with an asset like this and can, she's learning, be useful to Chuck in some situations, but he's not doing anything now but freaking himself out, and annoying her.

Ellie returns in due time, safe and sound as Sarah expected. Chuck is overjoyed. After Ellie and Devon adjourn to their room, Chuck finally is able to vent his spleen to Sarah.

"I am getting way too comfortable lying and sneaking around all this spy stuff. Okay? I'm starting to feel that that is my real life." Chuck gushes.

"It's all to be expected," Sarah reassures. "It's an existential spy crisis of sorts."

Unimpressed, Chuck continues "It used to be all compartmentalized, you know? Chuck world and spy world. But when I watched those ambulance doors closed, and my sister was behind them with that sweaty nuclear spy freak, my worlds collided_. I put Ellie's life in danger_!"

Sarah keeps it reassuring "No, Chuck that guy was sick with or without the Intersect in your head, and spy world or no, Ellie helped that guy because that is what she is trained to do."

That seems to get through. "Yeah I guess."

Praising Chuck's sister is a sure way to get onto his good side. He worships her, and it's not hard to see why. Sarah _could_ use that tidbit of information to control Chuck better, but it probably won't ever be necessary. Anytime Sarah feels the urge to say something nice about Ellie, it's not coming from a desire to manipulate Chuck. Sarah's genuinely impressed by this close if tiny family.

_Perhaps too close_, Sarah considers as she hands Chuck his coffee mug. The more eyes that are watching her and Chuck's cover relationship, the more convincing that cover needs to be. "There's something else that I have to talk to you about."

"What's that?" Chuck asks, his relief at Ellie's safety leaving him fatigued.

"I'm a little worried about our cover. I think it's time for us to make love."

Chuck's reaction amuses Sarah to the point where she has to bury her face into her own mug to keep from laughing. At least Chuck's freaking out about something different now… … … … …

* * *

… … … … and apparently he is _not_ freaking out about something that should be a cause for concern. _Who is this_?

Sarah has swung by the Buy More to pick up Chuck for a field trip down to the morgue. Sweaty Nuclear Spy Freak, more properly known as Mason Whitney now resides there, or at least his earthly remains do. It's been a few months, and Sarah's used to commanding some attention as she comes through the Buy More doors … but not today-at least not from Chuck. Today Chuck's attention is focused on the brown paper bag package that the very attractive petite girl is handing him. Sarah might have at one time described this woman's hair as 'black' – but Ellie has set the hair color standard for the raven haired women Sarah knows. This woman is dark brunette – and her smile is aimed right at Chuck.

Chuck _just_ might be clueless enough to not know when he's being aggressively flirted with, but Sarah's eyes and ears tell her everything she needs to know. Petite Brunette is in predator mode … with Sarah's asset scheduled as prey. She has her voice low and dusky, and maintains eye contact with Chuck the whole time. Sarah knows the drill well. This woman might not have gone to a seduction school, but she has a lot of native talent.

"Turkey, muenster, egg bread. I'm even going to call it the Chuck Bar-tow-ski" Petite Brunette purrs, actually lingering on each syllable of Chuck's name.

Chuck chirps with an innocent glee that suggests that he has no idea what's going on. "I can't believe you're going to name a sandwich after me!"

"You know, you should come by the shop sometime and taste it fresh…" she says, her voice even lower and breathier then before. _Oh, no you don't…_Gloriously, Sarah's cover calls for the exact same reaction that she'd have in real life. This could just be a little fun.

Now it seems to be dawning on Chuck "Yeah, yeah … I'd love that, Lou … this is kind of the biggest honor – Sarah!"

Sarah's assertively taken the stage, her face the mask of a phony smile, her voice one of faux cheeriness. "Hi! I'm Sarah!"

Petite Brunette's gaze has turned from flirty to accusatory in the space of nine milliseconds, maybe ten. Chuck fumbles over introducing Sarah as his girlfriend… eventually needing Sarah herself to bring out the word. Petite Brunette, one Lou by name she learns, leaves most unhappy with Chuck.

Sarah's reaction was entirely polite and professional – totally necessary for the maintenance of the cover. She's supposed to act like a girlfriend, and that includes a little possessiveness. Chuck is supposed to act like a boyfriend – and that means perhaps figuring out a line – a line across which new women in his life should not cross. Especially the pretty ones.

Still as Sarah calls for Chuck to join her, she feels a slight bit of resentment towards Lou and normal women like her. Months ago, Sarah had come into this store to locate a mark, and pretended to be enamored by Chuck when he fixed her phone. A piece of her wished that she had the same freedom that Lou had – to walk into the store for help, and to truly enjoy Chucks' attention, with no ulterior motive. She wishes she could appreciate Everyday Normal Chuck the way Lou can.

Or more accurately, she wishes that _she were allowed to admit to_ appreciating Everyday Normal Chuck the way Lou can.

* * *

That night, Sarah arrives at Chuck's apartment for the purposes of staying over. It wouldn't be quite as necessary if Chuck lived alone, but there's no point in griping about that. Sarah and Casey need unlimited access to Chuck, and Chuck having Sarah as a "girlfriend" provides that sort of no-questions-asked-from-Ellie-or-Awesome access. They have to be a convincing cover couple. And convincing couples have sex eventually.

Both slow jazz and the smell of scented candles waft from Chuck's room, and Sarah's not sure if she wants to compliment Chuck on his spy instincts with setting up the illusion, or if she needs to reign in his enthusiasm. Chuck's respectful, unpresumptuous nature suggests the former, but the awkward dance move she interrupts him in the middle of seems to suggest the latter.

"Elle let me in." She informs. Taking it all in "Wow, Chuck… what do you think's going to happen here tonight?" If for some reason Chuck is harboring any illusions as to what her intentions towards him … her immediate physical intentions anyway … it's best to bring him back down to earth sooner rather than later. This cover's already difficult on him enough. Times like this make it tough on her, too.

"Why?" He answers haltingly. "What do you think I think?"

"Well, I don't know … the candles and the music … I mean you do know that we're just spending the night together for cover, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, why … why would I possibly think anything else?" "I mean by now I'd say I'm pretty familiar with the concept of faking it … so"

"Chuck, we've got to take this assignment seriously" _Don't say out loud that we're faking it so Ellie and Devon can overhear, Chuck!_

"Okay, I'll lose the music". He kills the iPod radio and flops down on the bed. "You can change in the bathroom".

"That's okay" Sarah says, shucking her overcoat. She's already ready in the sleeping attire she's chosen for the night.

Chuck is immediately bolt upright. "What?! You give me crap about lighting some candles, and you come in wearing that?"

"What? This?" Sarah defends. "This is part of my cover!" She's actually chosen this outfit out of some consideration for Chuck. It's a purple slip that is lacy and slightly transparent around the abdomen and thighs, and matching panties. All her naughty bits are well covered. It's much more modest than, say a bikini, and almost as modest as a one-piece bathing suit.

"Well it doesn't cover a thing"

"And what if Ellie or Awesome were to walk in? This is exactly what a girlfriend would wear to seduce her boyfriend." Sarah already knows that that's a little bit of a fib. If she was really trying to have her way with Chuck, she wouldn't have chosen purple. Nor would she have chosen something that covers up her tummy-she's quite proud of it. As she climbs into bed she says "I am just being professional." It's the truth … although her mediocre sense of humor doesn't notice the inference she walks into by using the word "professional" while she's clad in lingerie. Chuck's next remark takes her by surprise.

"Yeah…the world's oldest profession." Chuck snarks.

The sting from the insult is all the worse because it's so unexpected. Sarah works in a field populated by some of the most unsavory males in the world, and she's been called far, far worse by marks and even by co-workers. But she's used to getting nothing but shy, awkward respect from Chuck, and his snidely calling her a prostitute is hurtful … and surely is a sign that something's agitating him. "Oooohhhh … well that's real nice, Chuck. What is the matter with you tonight anyway?"

It's already obvious to her what the problem is, and it's about 5'2", owns a deli, and is probably falling to sleep right now with dreams of her asset warming her brain. Happily Sarah doesn't even have to address the question as to whether or not she herself is jealous, since even if she is, it matches nicely with the suspicion she should professionally feel for anyone who wants in infiltrate Chuck's life. _At least it does this time. What about the next time?_

As Sarah huffs and turns her back to Chuck, an annoying thought grips her. Her days of pretending not to be jealously protective – and not just in a professional way- of Chuck are probably severely numbered. … … … … … … …

* * *

… … … Chuck Bartowski is may be teaching her about jealousy, but immediate circumstances dictate that he's going to teach her a few things about himself as well – and show her things she's never seen before. Horrifyingly, Chuck seems to have a knack for warming, stopping and breaking her heart all at the same time.

The mysterious perpetrator who murdered Mason Whitney has exposed Ellie to a special type of toxic pentothal, and Chuck's sister has only hours to live if she's not given the antidote. The trap that Chuck, Casey and Sarah had set for the poisoner has fallen apart, thanks to Chuck's untimely identifying of the codes necklace, and barging in on a standoff. The poisoner has gotten away. Thankfully, he's left one vial of antidote, and to Sarah, Casey and Chuck, it's immediately clear who should be the one to get it. Of course, strictly speaking, that doesn't mean they agree.

"Here" Sarah demands, handing the vial of to Chuck.

Her asset is having none of it. "No. No, it's for Ellie."

Sarah is adamant, immediately dismissing Chuck's concern. "No. I'm sorry there's no debate. It has to be you. You're the Intersect."

Flabbergasted, and apparently hurt that Sarah could think him so selfish, Chuck gasps in horror "I won't take it knowing that Ellie will die without it! That both of you have been poisoned too!"

The toxin is already starting to work on Casey, and he's more freely admitting that Chuck has the power to impress him. "You're a good person, Chuck and I respect that. But I have a job to do, so take it before I shove it down your throat!"

"Okay, okay. Fine. I'll do it." Chuck relents.

"Thank you!" Sarah doesn't even try to keep the relief out of her voice. Of all the times in the world this is certainly not the time for Chuck to play the part of selfless hero.

"I'll pretend to agree to take it, and then I'll run like hell to my sister's room and make her take it." He barely pauses as a look of slight confusion colors his chocolate brown eyes. "Why did I just say that out loud?"

"It's the poison." Sarah informs. "It makes you tell the truth."

"You do that and I'll give chase, put a gun to your head, and threaten to pull the trigger if you don't take it!" Casey says severely, not caring how counterproductive or circular the logic of his plan seems.

"Would you really shoot me?" Chuck asked, both curious and confused.

"No." Casey admits casually.

"Yeah, don't waste a bullet. We're already dead." Chuck retorts, again forming statements that he knows to be true. "I'm saving my sister." Chuck then darts down the hall, the prized vial tight in his fist. Sarah and Casey's pursuit is not quite quick enough to tackle Chuck before he can get to Ellie's room. … … … …

* * *

… … … … _Well, looks like he listened to me for once. There really __**wasn't**__ any debate_. Slumped on the floor, the three of them waiting to die, Sarah can't help but to be impressed with Chuck, and unlike his successful disarming of bomb with Irene Demova, this has nothing to do with his knack for spycraft. He's shown remarkable heroism … not the right kind of heroism that's right for the mission, but heroism nonetheless. He rescued his sister at the cost of his own life, and did it without even a moment's hesitation. Sarah's never seen that kind of bravery before. Oh of course, she herself could be described as 'brave', so could Casey. Spies court gruesome death for the good of the country all the time. But the bravery is always tied to some outside goal, like the mission. The bravery in the face of danger usually also tends to include a likelihood of escaping the danger, if talent and circumstances permit. Walking into _certain_ doom is typically not a spy's job.

It what she imagines to be her last moments, she wonders at the number of people in her life she'd so happily die for. There's one possibility – _maybe_ Molly. And even that's based more on the natural protectiveness all decent people have for children, not really on something that could be described as 'love'.

Of those who'd willingly, and without hesitation go willingly to their death for her, she knows that there aren't any at all. At least she's pretty sure she knows… … …

* * *

… … The game changes once more, and Chuck notices device that the poisoner dropped. The Intersect identifies him as Riordan Payne, his location is verified, and both perpetrator and pentothal antidote are secured.

Before Sarah takes the antidote, Chuck decides to mine her emotions, to see what's there. It perhaps is a little underhanded of him, but Sarah honestly can't hold it against him. Little does Chuck know that it's also futile, as pentothal is simply a drug that particularly dedicated- or masochistic – agents like herself can be trained to resist.

"This will probably be the last chance that I have to know the truth." Chuck all but pleads with her, again using his puppy dog eyes to devastating effect "I know you're just doing your job here, but sometimes it feels so real, you know? So tell me. You and me. Us. Our thing under the undercover thing. Is this every going anywhere?"

Were she to admit to having genuine feelings for Chuck, it's likely that she'd be reassigned just as fast as Beckman's fingers can type the e-mail. For now, a painful ugly lie is the only thing that will keep her assigned to this team.

_You idiot, don't you see that I'm falling for you? I just watched you almost let yourself be poisoned to death, and it made me want to cry! I'm crazy about you!_ is what shrieks through her mind. "I'm sorry Chuck. No." is what she forces though her mouth. He tongue and jaw practically rebel against her face, so offended are they at being ordered to this task.

"Got it. Got it, thank you for being honest. Even though I guess you don't really have a choice in the matter." Chuck quips. Sarah's seen men put on a brave front in the face of romantic disappointment before, but never has she felt so bad about being the source of such disappointment. Coolly, he downs the antidote. "Not bad" he grins.

Her steely resolve has reached its breaking point. She'd literally rather help Casey tend to the murderous, poisoning information smuggler then endure another second of those wonderful golden chocolate eyes, through which she can see the very real hurt she's caused. She can't imagine this assignment causing her more or worse pain… … … … …

* * *

… … … … The notion that her emotions have hit rock bottom is oddly comforting. Things can only go up from here, as they've no place else to go. She doesn't imagine being able to feel any worse.

That somewhat comforting notion lasts less than a day. Chuck makes an unexpected visit to the Wienderlicious. He seems somewhat happy, and determined. It looks like he's healed emotionally from having been disappointed yesterday, and Sarah's genuinely happy to see him.

"Oh, Hey! I didn't know you were coming by!" she smiles.

"Um, Sarah … you know when you think you're going to die, and you're whole life is supposed to flash in front of you? That didn't exactly happen for me yesterday, in fact, mostly it was just a list that I saw -a list of stuff that I hadn't done and things that I haven't had a chance to say. So today … Today I want to start crossing things off of my list."

He approaches a step towards her. "And this is the first thing that I'd promised myself that I'd do." Those wonderful eyes of his are practically hypnotizing her. This is all very hopelessly sweet and beautiful of him. _This is going to be some movie-style declaration of love. Or maybe a well thought out argument about how wonderful a boyfriend he'd be._

Chuck's hands now gently clasp her arms below her Wienerlicious top as if to steady her and a soft gentle grin begins to part his lips. _Oh how I love to see that smile pointed at me. … … Oh my God, he's going to kiss me, isn't he? A true kiss, a for-real kiss…Oh, Chuck- you saw right through my lie yesterday didn't you, you adorable nerd …_

"We need to break up." Those words are just horrible enough from Chuck, that she can't quite process them right away. Not only that, but the relieved smile he gives all but seems as if he's hoping that this causes her pain.

"… … What?"

"You know like, fake-fake break up our pretend relationship."

Sarah's poker face falters, and she gamely tries to reset it, but she knows that Chuck saw her emotion peek through. _Damn_.

Chuck hurries by his explanation, as if he's ripping off a Band-Aid, or some other unpleasant chore that's best done quickly. "I just can't do this anymore, you know? The longer we go, the longer we keep trying to fool people into believing that we're a real couple … the person I keep fooling the most is me."

With that, Chuck leaves her. After a brief call from Casey, she sighs. She was convinced that lying to Chuck yesterday made her feel about as low as she could get. She was wrong, this was worse. The notion of being rejected by what is the kindest man in her admittedly man-limited life– even in this facsimile of a relationship – only pours a shaker full of salt into the wound.

Well, at least _now_ she can't feel any worse, can she?

_That_ somewhat comforting notion doesn't even last three minutes. Chuck's first stop after the Wienerlicious is Lou's Deli, and at the sight of the two of them laughing over a cup of coffee, Sarah feels as if she's bathing in scalding water.

Spies aren't supposed to have emotions … but her recent experience with Bryce in Mexico taught her that that's not entirely true. Today she wishes it was.

* * *

_Beckman's not going to be happy about this_, she decides later that day, and after her Wienerlicious shift, she drops her pigtails and decides to try to salvage the situation. Cornering him in the Buy More's home theater room, she tries to apologize for sending the wrong signals – but the fact is, Chuck's not even accusing her of doing that. He seems to know she hasn't done anything wrong – he's not looking for an apology. He's simply looking for an escape – an escape from her platonic stares to Lou's warm and anything-but-platonic embrace. Sarah literally has nothing she can offer him … nothing that she can offer him and still keep her assignment, anyway … that he's interested in. What he's interested in is "away from her". Chuck's discovered a new, awkward way to make her feel bad. He seems to simply assume that she's out of his league, makes his peace with that "fact" and moves on. He's killing her by being so sweet and nice about it.

Sarah takes advantage of one last time where being his cover girlfriend lines up with her own desires. Informing him that she's going to have to sell it to Chuck's Buy More co-workers, she works up some fake tears. Chuck looks decidedly uncomfortable at the sight of tears from a woman he cares about – just like she suspected he would. But that's too bad. Chuck's pretend-hurt her feelings, so he has to witness her pretend-tears. And if that causes him real discomfort, that'll be his problem. … … …

* * *

… … … Indeed Beckman is not pleased whatsoever. "What the hell happened?"

"She got dumped!" Casey seems to be happy, though. Odd that this is one of the few times that she's seen Casey smile when not cleaning his firearms. Sarah doesn't quite know what his story is – either he's innocently busting the chops of his partner, or some pretty blonde woman crushed him way back when, and he's tickled by the idea of Chuck dropping Sarah.

"We decided that it would be best for Chuck to date a civilian. It will help secure his cover in the event someone IDs me." Sarah reports … as if the whole thing were a well thought up plan by herself Chuck and Casey…

"Yeah, because she got dumped!" … but Casey has no interest in forwarding that illusion. _Yeah, I guess someone did a number on you a long time ago._

"Let me get this straight" Beckman intones, her face a mask of seriousness and concern. "Someone comes in off the street and starts dating the asset, and this doesn't strike either of you as suspicious?" To the untrained eye, the notion that Lou could be an enemy operative might seem quite ridiculous, and yet the entire business thrives on opponents overlooking such possibilities. Hopefully an enemy only regards Chuck as just another Nerd Herder, Casey as another Buy More Green Shirt, and Sarah as just a (very pretty) Wienerlicious girl. What if Lou is not quite what she seems?

Still, swiftly falling to Chuck's sweet, affable, kind, warm, funny,sincere,respectful, charisma isn't suspicious or odd in and of itself, and Sarah knows that all too well. She might be secretly jealous of Lou, but she can't blame her, or consider her one of the bad guys just because she likes Chuck. She thinks it strange that Beckman immediately jumps to battle stations on the news that Chuck has an admirer. Sarah's legitimately annoyed, not only at the implied insult to Chuck, but at the unintentional insult to her.

In framing her retort, Sarah takes pains to remember that she's addressing A) a brigadier general in the US Army, and B) a woman whose idea of romance includes Roan Montgomery, so she's probably not the authority on what romantic scenarios are suspicious or not. "It's not completely unfeasible. He _is_ a reasonably charming guy."

"I've heard enough." The general says, not letting go with her concern. "I want to know everything there is to know about this woman before she gets too close."

Sarah grimaces at the idea – not because she's afraid they'll find that Lou isn't what she seems, but because she's sure they're going to find out that Lou is _exactly_ what she seems – a sweet, flirty aggressive woman – who's occupying space in Chuck's head that used to be occupied by her…. … …

* * *

… … … … Indeed there is slightly more to Lou than meets the eye, but only a little more. It's her ex-boyfriend who soon takes center stage. Stavros Demetrios is a name that Chuck flashes on, after an "intimate"-to use Casey's word- moment with Lou. Sarah demands that Casey spare her details. Happily he was on surveillance that night.

Beckman's briefing assigns Chuck to bring Lou to Savros's nightclub, and Chuck protests by referring to Lou as his "girlfriend". Sarah can barely conceal her blanching at the word, even in the presence of Beckman.

_Girlfriend? Seriously? Coffee and a few sandwiches, and she's his girlfriend? He uses that word that quickly?_ Her Wienerliscious shift begins, and Sarah has stored up a fund of resentment that promises bad things for anyone who crosses her. Lester unwittingly volunteers to be that someone. He leaves the Wienerlisicous with his life and his limbs, but not his dignity. Tormenting the little weasel gives her a much needed momentary respite.

Chuck successfully convinces Lou to take him to the club that Savros owns, and apparently Sarah's not doing a great job of hiding her feelings in the surveillance van. Casey decides to needle her, only this time it doesn't seem so much for sport, as it sounds like some constructive criticism.

"Same bit with you, huh?" Casey grumbles.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you need me to spell it out? Fine. You fall for the guys you work with. First Bryce, now our boy Chuck." He remarks as if he's commenting on yet another rainy day.

"Bryce was a mistake, and I haven't fallen for Chuck." She tries to insert a derisive laugh into the middle of her denial, but clearly Casey sees it for the poor acting that it is.

"Yeah. Whatever you say. And just so we're clear sister, not interested." Casey's bored tone indicates that he's not interested in judging her for her for anything along the lines of promiscuity, but that he finds no appeal in mixing business with pleasure, and defending Chuck is business.

Sarah overreacts to an offhand comment from Stavros, barges into the club to check on Chuck's wellbeing, and 'accidentally' sabotages Chuck's date. Ooops. Lou's furious at Chuck, Chuck's furious at Sarah, Sarah congratulates Chuck on a mission well done – his microphone is picking up the shipping family's conversation. … … … … …

* * *

… … … … … Which results in her and Chuck walking into a trap, and being taken. Now truly in a jam, and locked in the trunk of the car…. Without Chuck's GPS watch to assist Casey in a rescue. To call Sarah "furious" does justice to neither her emotion nor the gravity of the situation.

"Lou was incriminating herself, and I didn't want her getting into trouble." Chuck defends without an ounce of regret; as if protecting Lou from a fine justifies the danger they're now both in.

Sarah can't believe that they've both been kidnapped and will probably be under threat of death because of this Nerd Herder's desire to protect the petite sandwich slinger. "Always the romantic, huh Chuck?" She snarls.

"Jealous?" Chuck actually manages a smug grin, despite being locked in the trunk and bound. How Sarah wishes he were gagged too.

"It was _foolish_! Do you really think the CIA is interested in _a deli meat smuggler_!?"" Sarah's normal cool is starting to collapse – yes, she knows that Chuck's new at this, but c'mon- he _has_ been at this for a few months. Is she really out of line to demand that Chuck know better? _And yes. I am jealous._

"Well, excuse me if I'm not Mr. Perfect Spy. We can't all be Bryce Larkin, now can we?" Chuck hisses.

"Who's jealous now?" Sarah gives her own smug sneer, slightly happy that Bryce has been occupying Chuck's thoughts… of course Chuck's immediate reaction informs her that a) she probably just admitted to being jealous, and b) she just asked Chuck if he's jealous of someone who is both disgraced and dead…. Which he's probably not.

"Me, jealous of you and Bryce? Never." Chuck defects with unforced sincerity.

"Is that everything you wanted to say?" she growls.

"More or less"

"Good! Now shut up, you're sucking up all the air." Sarah spins her back on him in a huff. For several minutes she occupies herself with staring at the interior side of the car's trunk, illuminated by back glow from the car's taillight.

Predictably, Chuck the Chatterbox breaks the silence. "You know I've been thinking…"

"Oh. _Now_ you're thinking. Picking up a new hobby?" Sarah growls without looking at him. _Seriously… to protect his deli meat smuggling girlfriend? And seriously – two dates and it's 'girlfriend'!? I was tearing up hotel rooms with Bryce for almost two years across three continents, and all I got was 'it's complicated'._ It was odd the thoughts that being locked in the trunk of a car could inspire. Or maybe she's truly running out of oxygen, and her thoughts were beginning to suffer.

"Huh. Yeah … you know, you were right that night at the restaurant. You're really _not_ funny …" Chuck muses.

"What part of _'Shut Up'_ do you not understand?" she demands.

"I was just thinking … Casey's going to find us. I showed him how that day when you got tossed in the trunk by Dr. Zarnow. That time you taught me how to land a helicopter?"

"Yeah, I miss that trunk. It was a lot quieter." Sarah grumbles.

"Ha! See? Now that's funnier. You're getting the hang of it. Good for you. I was just saying that Casey can still find us. He'll have a satellite search the docks or use a drone, or look up Stavros & Yari's dock number or something."

"When he does, I'm sure he's going to appreciate that you gave him the extra challenge of having to guess where we'll be instead of _hanging on to your GPS watch_." … … …

* * *

… … … … … Indeed Casey does, and Team Bartowski escapes certain doom for what seems like the ninth time in as many weeks. There may be time yet to salvage the mission for Beckman. With Casey and his tactical team holding off Yari and Stavros's assorted goons, the NSA agent dispatches Chuck and Sarah to intercept the presumed weapon. To Sarah, that's exactly one set of hands too many.

"Chuck I want you to get as far away from here as possible!" Sarah orders.

"I'm coming with you!" Chuck stubbornly informs.

"No! Chuck, You're not going anywhere near a live bomb!" Annoyed, Sarah has no idea how she could possibly lose what should be a common sense argument… but then again this is a guy who just left his GPS watch behind to protect Lou.

"Do you know how to diffuse a bomb? Do you have an Intersect in your head? I didn't think so!" Heedless of all logic and sense of self-safety, the Nerd- Herder charges ahead.

"Hey! Chuck! Wait!""

Berth 19 houses the objective, and whatever it is, it's large- housed in a giant plywood box. Enlisting the help of two crowbars, Sarah and Chuck open the box to reveal a sinister looking device. It's large, it's grey, and a red digital timer counts down. _Probably not containing more of Lou's deli meats. _Sarah thinks glumly. Whatever this ominous looking thing is about to unleash, it's going to do it in less than a minute.

Sarah begins by accessing the digital panel, but after that is stumped. She's never seen anything even close to this thing before, so the chances of it not being in the Intersect are high.

"Okay .. okay Intersect, Flash .Show me how to do this." Chuck muses, sounding more like he's in prayer than anything else.

_**43 seconds.**_ "Did you flash?" Sarah asks, hoping against hope. She already knows how Chuck reacts with a flash, and his reaction is despairingly absent.

"No. Nothing" Chuck begins to panic. "C'mon! Come on come on come on, baby don't fail me now!" Chuck cradles his head, as if he can physically trigger a useful flash.

_**35 seconds**_. Sarah has appreciated Chuck's brave attempt to help, but it's over now. "Okay Chuck, that's enough. Run. I'm going to try and stay to diffuse it."

"No, I'm not leaving you here." The nerd expresses shock that Sarah would suggest he abandon her.

"Go! That is an order!" Evan as she says it, Sarah's normal calm gives way to panic and anger. She already knows full well how welcome a directive to leave her must be to him.

"No." Chuck says with uncharacteristic defiance. He actually sounds like _he's_ getting annoyed with _her_!

Sarah can take no more from her aggravatingly courageous, frustratingly affable, enragingly selfless, bizarrely inept, infuriatingly considerate and annoyingly cute-ish asset putting himself in harm's way for no good reason. She draws her Smith and Wesson 5906, storms over to her obstinate nerd and aims directly between those two wonderful amber-brown eyes. _"I said go!"_ she snarls her last order at him.

Sarah has held unarmed men at gunpoint before – most people give quick and easy compliance when looking down the barrel of 9mm death. But Chuck is not most people. Even as he stands just yards away from one kind of doom, and just inches away from another, Chuck observes with exasperated sarcasm, "Oh, I see. So you're going to shoot me to prevent me from getting blown up? That's a great plan!"

_No, you idiot I'm trying to scare you into running away and saving yourself! Why are you letting yourself die here? Why are you doing this to Ellie and Devon? Why are you doing this to me? Do you have a death wish? Do you hate having the Intersect so much that you're willing for this to be over?! Why won't you let me keep you alive_? It never occurs to her that he might run too, if she'd only run with him. Her self-control collapses- _**"**_**WHY ARE YOU SO STUBBORN!?" **she roars with impotent rage.

"Actually I consider this a rare moment of courage." Chuck insists, with an angry assurance that comes from being convinced that he's right.. "I don't know where it's coming from, I guess you just bring out the worst in me."

"And you in me!" She hisses in his face as she leans forward and holsters her weapon. It's true. Chuck is the one man who made her regret for the first time using her seductive charm to accomplish Agency business, and who made her consider her feelings and emotions. These, she's learned, are normally not great traits for spies.

The timer device gives off higher sounding chirps as the final ten seconds count down. Both Chuck and Sarah turn towards the instrument of their destruction.

_**5 seconds.**_ "It was nice knowing you". There's no rebuke, no complaints, and no sarcasm now. Chuck's voice is only filled with respect and affection for her. Sarah's gotten professional respect from the men in her life before – her competency assures that, and Casey, Bryce and Langston have always delivered that. Affection – genuine affection like she's come to expect from Chuck, is something altogether new and strange. She's had men mimic it for her before – usually expecting a timely sexual reward. But it's never been quite like this. What a shame she's had such a brief time to appreciate it, before it's gone forever.

It's a world full of lies, deceit, and illusion. But Sarah's place in that world is quite literally going to be blown apart. If even a tenth of that container is loaded with Semtex, Plastique, C-4 … hell at this range even old fashioned black gunpowder would do it… there won't be anything left of either one of them to identify, much less burry ... not even to cremate. They will be less than ashes. She and Chuck will literally be destroyed by the shock wave at the cellular or molecular level – reduced to air pollutants in faster than the blink of the eye. At least it won't hurt in the least– the shock wave will literally out run the velocity of their nervous systems. By the time the impulses of pressure and pain from their arms and sides arrive at their brains, nether one will have a brain anymore.

_**3 seconds.**_Sarah sees Chuck squeeze those wonderful browns shut for the last time … and an odd sense of freedom envelops her. It used to be a world of covers and deception – now it's a world without any responsibilities at all. She's dying in the line of duty, and there'll be no more reports to Beckman, and no more paperwork with Casey. No Intersect to worry about-it's about to be destroyed too, no villains or traitors or terrorists will get their grubby hands on it. Even things that are unquestionably important like national security will no longer be her concern- they'll be someone else's, of course-but not hers. No need to maintain a cover for the safety of anybody. No need to pretend that Chuck's not the most wonderful man to come into her oft-vacant life. No need to pretend that he's nothing more than an assignment to her. No need to pretend that she doesn't want him for herself, and hated seeing him with Lou. No more need for such lies.

For the rest of her life, all two glorious seconds of it, she's free to do whatever she wants. And it's standing right in front of her.

Sarah seizes both sides of Chucks head, and greedily claims his lips with her own. Chucks lips are so warm and wonderful against her own, just as she's always imagined they'd be. Her tongue slides out and caresses his upper lip, and is almost immediately met by Chuck's own delicious wet tongue as he begins to respond to this surprising, but very welcome revelation from her. Sarah breaks the kiss, and kisses again- and it's just as beautiful and passionate. Chuck's arms envelop her, first letting his hands stroke her hair, and then embracing her fully, unnecessarily pulling her towards him. Her hands slide down to his chest, clenching his nerd herd shirt and tie. It's possibly the same shirt, and probably the same time where she first saw him. Sarah relishes the delightful sensation of her body pressed tightly against Chuck's and kisses him a third, fourth and fifth … … … _wait … fifth? How long does it take for a two second timer to count down?_

Reality intrudes on the lovely moment. Sarah freezes in Chuck's arms, breaks their kiss, and stares into his basset hound eyes … which are still there, perplexingly. His confused expression mirrors what must be her own. They both turn to look at the timer.

_**00:00:00 **_

Clearly not a bomb after all. At least not a very well put together one.

The relief is tempered with gravity of what they've just done dawning on her, although apparently it doesn't dawn Chuck. He still simply looks confused. The real world comes flooding back to her, and all the crushing responsibilities that come with it. The relationship between an asset and a handler. The need for Beckman's assurance that she's not compromised with Chuck. The need to keep the Intersect safe for the good of the nation.

The need to hurt Chuck. ….. And to deny herself.

"Well, the good news is that we're alive. And the bad news is that this is kind of an uncomfortable moment right now." She's been making believe – for the good of the mission of course- that she's not falling for Chuck so far and so fast. But it's all been a lie and now he knows it. Will she be able to get him to trust her again? Will this make him more or less willing to listen to her?

"It's completely comfortable on my end." Chuck admits matter-of-factly. "Just saying". This doesn't help her at all.

_Guys will let you down Walker._

The kiss had been entirely his fault. Of course _she_ had kissed _him_, but it wouldn't have been necessary … and it had been so very very necessary … if Chuck had just listened to her and stayed away when he was supposed to. Or run when he was supposed to. Then her fiction might have held up. Of course Casey had seen through it – but he was a spy. Chuck had totally bought that she wasn't into him- that she was too sophisticated, too worldly, too attracted to alpha males and the machismo they bring to a relationship to be attracted to the likes of him - that's why he went to Lou in the first place. The facade had been perfect - it had been working … but now the non-bomb had blown it away.

_He's going to be insufferable now… … … … but he's a good kisser though._

* * *

_Bryce Larkin not dead after all …. Or a traitor … Fulcrum … Fulcrum…Lon Kirk …Ilsa Trinchina … GLG-20 … Lizzie the Schwarma Girl … Longshore_

Sarah's idea of romance usually involves flowers, chocolates, candlelight dinners, nice hotels, and pretty vistas like views from the Eiffel Tower, or perhaps the ocean like that first morning with Chuck. And yet … there is unusual amounts of romance to be found in this, probably the most nauseating and vile task she's ever performed.

She and Chuck are in a dumpster, searching for the ring that Lizze the Schwarma Girl cum Fulcrum agent had briefly owned. After being dispatched by Sarah, the two women had found themselves here in this dumpster … the contents of which are chest high in some places. But Chuck is stubbornly, meticulously searching through the refuse, determined to make Devon's proposal to his sister happen, no matter what horrors he has to …

"Ooooh! Oh! Ladies' feminine products. That's not good… that's not good." Chuck voices his discomfort, but braver … or perhaps simply more dedicated … than most men, he continues his search. "Are you sure that Lizzie didn't have the ring on her?" he asks hopefully.

"When they took her away, all she had was the receiver." Sarah informs glumly, trying to remember exactly where Lizzie's left hand would have been when she landed in the dumpster.

"Oh, then it's got to be here somewhere" Chuck says with grim determination as he closely examines a box of something unspeakable.

"You know, Chuck, if we can't find it, we can just replace it" Talking Chuck out of finding the ring is going to be difficult, but perhaps she could start things buy suggesting that they put a clock on it.

Chuck will have none of it. "Look look look! It was Awesome's great granny's ring, and it's going to be my sister's okay? Even if it's covered in coffee grounds and miscellaneous DNA." Certainly not for the first time Sarah is impressed with Chuck's willingness to go to inconvenience – in this case unspeakably gross and disgusting inconvenience - for someone important to him. Simultaneously, she's a little annoyed at the universe for having assigned so wonderful a man to her professional life, but not to her personal one.

"Ha hah hah! Heyyyyy I FOUND IT!" Despite the fact that he's covered in revolting refuse, Chuck's glee is obvious, and he flashes an overjoyed smile as he holds up the ring for Sarah to see. Perseus himself could not have looked more delighted holding up the severed head of Medusa.

"Let's go!" Chuck chirps with glee as he climbs over the top of the dumpster, and offers Sarah a hand and an arm out for herself.

They make their way to Sarah's Porsche. "Buckle up, Chuck" she growls. As Chuck hops into the shotgun seat, a grouchy thought clouds over her mood. "By the way, do you know how much it costs to detail a Porsche, to get the stink of garbage out of it?"

"Um, no. Can't say that I do." Chuck says a bit distractedly, inspecting the ring for any more defilement.

"You will by this time next week." Sarah sends a snarky smile his way. She's happy for Chuck … and for Ellie and Devon … truly she is. It's just that she already knows full well that her job practically excludes the joys and pleasures of family life – and that includes having family members like Devon Ellie and Chuck. In just a few minutes, Devon's going to ask Ellie to be a part of his life forever … she just watched Chuck dumpster dive in order to make it happen. Just as she often regrets that Chuck is … _or at least should be_ … nothing more than an asset to her, it has in these last few months become almost as painful that Ellie and Devon are … _should be_ … nothing more than The Asset's Family to her.

Later, spying at the window, Sarah and Chuck watch Devon propose – it's a clear and obvious success.

"Don't you think you should go in and congratulate Ellie?" Sarah suggests.

"Do you want to come in with me?" Chuck offers.

The sincere invitation takes Sarah by surprise. "Oh, it's family time" she reluctantly sighs. Allowing herself to give into the illusion that Ellie and Devon are her own family – or even her own friends- is every bit as dangerous as sleeping with Chuck would be… …

… … Although it's every bit as tempting, she feels a minute later. Chuck Devon and Ellie in a group hug, crying in glee, sighing with delight, too happy to even quiz Chuck on why he smells like Oscar the Grouch.

Chuck has never said his family was perfect, in fact what little she knows about his parents, they're very far from it. And yet the scene in front of Sarah seems to be one of complete domestic bliss. On the outside and looking in, Sarah suddenly feels a cool, lonely chill, despite the warm south California weather, and her eyes begin to moisten at the happy family in front of her. .. so nearby and yet so very far away.

_Guys will let you down, Walker._

Chuck lets her down on occasion – almost periodically—when she wants him to stay in the car, but when it comes to the ones who matter most to Chuck, he's ready to spend a frighteningly large amount of time in the most unclean filth. She's tightly in the grip of someone who doesn't seem to want to let anybody down … and is more than willing to include her. If only the world could let them be together – but from what Sarah's seen of the world, it doesn't have the ability to be so kind.


	11. Sarah vs The Asset (Part 2)

_**A/N**__: As previously noted, I envisioned this to be a "brief" revisiting of Sarah's thoughts during seasons 1 &2 … It turns out that I'm a bit long winded. _

"_Chuck vs the Santa Claus" is one of my very favorite episodes of the whole series, although we never do learn who in John Casey's life knows him as "Johnny Boy" (secret coded message to Beckman, mavbe?) It might be a little harsh to watch a heroine like Sarah so brutally execute an unarmed, surrendering Frank Mauser, but I think the moment's so important to Chuck, Sarah and to we the audience. We already know that Sarah's a lethal fighter in the midst of combat, but here we clearly learn that when it comes to threats against Chuck, Sarah's simply lethal, period. I think the brilliant camera shot of Sarah's gun hand with the charm bracelet around her wrist is just lovely – and can be taken more than one way. It works as a POV shot from the hiding Chuck, and he's horrified that he's given his heart to a woman capable of such merciless brutality… and yet I think the show wanted to argue that the inverse is the case:: Sarah's only so merciless because of her love for Chuck. Sarah Walker, ladies and gents- dangerous enough when being professional, even more frightening when she's in love – which is saying quite a lot. _

_Bryce Larkin redeemed himself by dying at the end of Chuck vs The Ring. In the battle between Good and Evil, he always was technically on the side of the good guys, despite managing to selfishly hurt practically everyone he came in contact with. It'd be interesting to see what would have happened if instead of giving him a hero's death, the show insisted on giving him a redemptive arc with his relationship with Chuck and Sarah. Interesting, but probably not for the best. If we examined Bryce's relationship with anyone, we'd probably be dismayed to find that he never really had any such thing._

_I bring that up because Diane Beckman gets such an arc ,more or less, and in seasons 3 4 and 5 is shown to be supportive and somewhat respectful of Team B/Carmichael … a very far cry from her infuriating Season 2 self. I actually forgave her for putting out a kill order on Chuck in "First Date". It's brutal, but somewhat logical and possibly even humane in the long run. (That and the fact you knew it was never going to actually happen!) I never did forgive her shameless manipulation of Chuck in "Predator" and her betrayal of Chuck, and her selection of using Sarah as the lure in "First Kill". It's one thing to secure the Intersect by eliminating it. It's pretty much the same thing to lock Chuck underground – these can be sort of justified as the rough costs of doing rough business. But exploiting and lying to Chuck about her sincerity in getting rid of the Intersect, and then revealing that she actually has no such interest, and insisting that Chuck simply patiently subject himself to being a toy under her thumb indefinitely is a special type of wickedly cruel, and Beckman tap dances frighteningly close to villainy here—so close that it's amazing that she's redeemed. _

_Going back to the concept of key moments, ever notice that several what-should-have-been "key moments" in season 2 turned out to be anything but? The heartrending fountain speech in "…Breakup" should have been one, but in the next episode "… Cougars" it's like it never happened. Also Sarah is pretty chilly to Chuck at the end of "… Suburbs" but they're right back to normal in "…Best Friend". Chuck and Sarah have dozens of adorable, tense moments, but very few of these moments fall into what could be called "game changers". Even "Chuck vs The Colonel" has one at the very end – considering the way the episode began in Barstow – is there any good reason why Chuck and Sarah __**don't**__ spend the night together after the wedding rehearsal dinner? Considering how nice they both look and their obvious unresolved lust?_

_It's almost enough to make one say "thank goodness they shook things up for season 3"._

_Nah, just kidding. Season 2 wasn't anywhere near __**that**__ bad._

_**Be Ye Warned:**__ Probably the most violent chapter in the story, but if you've seen how "… vs the Santa Claus" ends, it's nothing that will surprise you. Also a mild rehash of the Barstow encounter._

_Don't forget to leave a review! And thanks to all who have done so!_

**Chapter 11 Sarah vs The Asset (Part 2)**

_2008 … 2008 … Mr Colt … Roan Montgomery … Sasha Banachek … Bryce Larkin and Von Hays… Buchanan High School reunion … Atari Missile Command … Jill Roberts … Jill Roberts a traitor … The Leader … Ty Bennett the sensei also a traitor … A visit from dad … Nathan Rhyerson … Frank Mauser LAPD…_

The stakes are as high as they've been since Lizzie the Schwarma Girl discovered Chuck's identity. LAPD Lieutenant Frank Mauser is not at all who he seems, and neither is Ned Rhyerson.

Only the most haphazard piece of luck had revealed that Mauser was Fulcrum, an inconsistency in Ned Rhyerson's background had cast suspicion on why the L.A.P.D. hostage negotiator was removing Chuck from the BuyMore in an ambulance.

A shot apiece from Sarah and Casey is all it takes to dispatch the tires on the ambulance, and it crashes headlong into a Christmas tree sales yard, mysteriously full at dusk on Christmas Eve.

This is a blessing though, as the crashed ambulance door springs open, and Chuck, thinking fast, charges out to hide in the artificial grove of pines and Douglass firs. An enraged Mauser piles out behind him. At extreme range, Sarah draws her suppressed 5906, and fires once, spider-webbing the door window just inches from Mauser's head. It doesn't solve the problem, as Mauser tears off into the tree yard in pursuit of Chuck.

Arriving at the lot, Sarah quickly and methodically searches for Chuck, eliminating the ranks of trees one by one. Chuck's self-preservation skills have slowly been improving, and it sounds as if he's trying to make a little noise as possible, the better to hide from Mauser. Of course, it also means he's hiding from her.

Mercifully, Chuck makes a step heavier then he should, from the rank of trees off to her left flank. As silent as a lynx in snow, Sarah slides in behind him, follows him for five steps and cups her hand over Chuck's mouth. He gives a suppressed yelp, before noticing that the hand that grabbed him is attached to a wrist that sports a charm bracelet that's very familiar to him.

At the sight of Sarah, Chuck's eyes are a mix of relief and fear. She imagines that they very much mirror the look that must be in her eyes.

"Lieutenant Mauser's Fulcrum, so is Ned! It was all a setup!"

"I know" Sarah reassures.

"Everyone in the store is still in danger!"

Sarah by now knows that Chuck's first instinct will be to go back to the Buy More and help Ellie and Devon – where Ned The Fulcrum Agent is. That cannot happen. "Our team is moving in on them right now- they'll be fine. Now I need you to run back as fast as you can to the Castle." It feels like the millionth time that she's come within an ace of losing Chuck, within a breath of watching those wonderful brown eyes of his close for the last time, within a heartbeat of having to break horrible news to Ellie and Devon.

"I can't leave you alone with this guy."

"Chuck! Your safety is more important than mine! Now leave and don't turn back. Go." It also feels like the millionth time she and Chuck had had this particular conversation. Why, exactly had the universe allowed this to happen? If the Intersect was going to be accidently downloaded into a computer nerd, why couldn't it at least be downloaded into one that was a coward to boot? It would have made things so much easier.

Chuck complies for once, in what could only be described as a minor Christmas miracle. Then she begins to stalk the Christmas tree stand. It's not enough to save Chuck this once. Mauser has to be eliminated as a threat, which means that today he'll be wearing handcuffs or a toe tag.

The two surprise each other, Mauser not even having enough time to turn his weapon to bear. Instead he attacks with a strong kick that knocks Sarah's Smith & Wesson to the dirt. As she registers the loss of her weapon, and her reduction to fisticuffs, Mauser comes in again with a slap to the side of her face. His next move is to end things with his gun, but Sarah quickly seizes his gun hand, and twists his thumb, causing Mauser to drop his Smith & Wesson 945.

With both disarmed, Sarah quickly learns that Mauser's police/Fulcrum training make him a ferocious, even savage adversary, and Sarah immediately finds herself at a disadvantage. She can usually rely on her opposition being less well trained than she, and she's used to having surprise as a preliminary weapon. Both advantages are absent tonight, and they're sorely missed. Mauser's considerable size also gives him a power advantage as well, and Sarah's strength begins to sap as each blow Mauser lands causes more and more damage. Speed is the one advantage Sarah has left, and it's not serving her well enough to compensate against Mauser's strengths.

Mauser blocks Sarah's first counterattack, and quickly causes harm by landing two strong punches to her solar plexus, and a third right to her face, causing her to bleed and to see stars. All the while, Mauser grips her hair with his left hand, limiting her opportunities to dodge his right fist. She's not shy about yelping in pain, as her cries are likely to summon support for her. The support of allies is another thing she vaguely has going for her, she surely has some, Mauser probably does not. But support for her could be minutes away, and unless she rallies now, this fight may not last that long.

She doesn't. Attempting to counter attack with strong kick with her left foot, Sarah finds herself almost fatally stymied when Mauser absorbs the blow with his side, accepting the pain, but then locks her leg, and sweeps her off her remaining foot with a kick of his own. Sarah sees the world tumble away. The trees go horizontal; Mauser's face rotates 90 degrees, and a carpet of dead pine needles rushes up to smack her in the face.

Sensing victory, Mauser lands a kick at on the prone Sarah's gut, causing her to howl in agony. A second one wounds her even further. A grinning sneer creeps across his face as he kicks her a third time.

In desperation, Sarah grabs his leg, which at least halts those awful kicks. It also reaps the benefit of temporarily immobilizing Mauser, fastened now as he is by a hundred and some-odd pound blond haired anchor.

The respite is only temporary, as Mauser decides to finish the problem by bending over to choke the life out of Sarah. His powerful hands lock around her windpipe and begin to squeeze. The very discomforting possibility that Mauser's hateful leering face might be the last thing she sees crosses her mind.

Rallying what strength she has left, Sarah unleashes a very strong kick to the side of Mauser's knee. The placement is perfect, even if it's the first thing that's gone right for her in the last minute and a half. As her foot makes contact, she can feel the Fulcrum agent's patella move a matter of quarter inches, and his entire leg buckles. It's a blown out knee for sure, an athlete's career ending injury, and Mauser collapses into the pine needles.

Gasping for breath, Sarah flops over on her stomach to search for her gun. The chrome colored suppressed S&W 5906 stands out well in the pine needles, and she crawls to it, curling her fingers around the grip and trigger, rising to her feet, and drawing a bead on Mauser.

Even as she catches her breath, she can taste the warm, wet blood on her lips, contrasting with the cool, wet rain that's just beginning to come down. It's been one of her most painful victories, but a victory nonetheless.

"You may have beaten me, Agent Walker, but Fulcrum's won. I know Chuck Bartowski's the Intersect!" Mauser beams, as if victory were his.

Victorious and confident, Sarah can't help but gloat a little. This clown has had his shot at stealing national security secrets, and he's lost. There's not going to be a trial for him, or a public hearing, or anything approaching a chance to spill his secrets, just a deep dark hole where he'll spend the rest of his life. "Chuck's secret is safe. And you're going straight to a CIA detention facility, never to be seen or heard from again." she snarls.

"You go right ahead, Agent Walker. Arrest me. But say goodbye to Chuck." Mauser speaks with an authoritative confidence, as if he were addressing a young rookie policeman. "You see, I'm not like those other Fulcrum agents. They'll do whatever it takes to find me. And when they do, every Fulcrum agent we have is going to know Chuck's the Intersect. It's going to be the end of his pathetic existence."

The sneering grin on Mauser's face- the aura of assurance in eventual victory jars Sarah to her core. He could just be right. Fulcrum does indeed seem to have eyes and ears everywhere. It had been Bryce who had warned them of Fulcrum- and when Bryce had been discovered alive, she and Casey had taken him to what they thought had been a secure location. Tommy the Fulcrum Agent was already there. It was the same type of CIA detention facility that Sarah had just guaranteed that Mauser would be spending the rest of his days. How can she be sure that that site is any more Fulcrum-agent-proof than the one in Los Angeles?

Quickly, steadily, like an invisible crushing serpent, the fear tightens around Sarah's chest. Mauser doesn't even need to escape or be rescued in order to make good on his threat – he need only turn or influence a guard- or an already corrupted guard need only come in contact with him at the facility and Chuck's secret is well and truly out. And then … the Fulcrum attack could well and truly be one of total surprise – perfect surprise – just as this one had almost been. Casey and Sarah had caught an amazingly lucky break, learning of Rhyerson and Mauser's identities in just the nick of time. Will they be so lucky next time?

"So take me in, Agent Walker. I'm ready to go." Mauser places his hands on the back of his head, in complete physical surrender.

General Beckman, if she knew, would no doubt be salivating at the idea of capturing such a high ranking Fulcrum agent alive. If Mauser is as special as he's advertised- and the simple fact that he's an LAPD lieutenant suggests that he's no ordinary goon – then his brain must be chock full of nifty secrets to know and tell.

And Mauser will tell. Eventually, everyone does. Casey is probably the hardest man she's ever met … and even he pales in comparison to expert interrogators schooled in what's euphemistically called "unrestricted techniques". Capturing Mauser alive, as she has just done, is a critical boon to the CIA information cache. These thoughts flash briefly through Sarah Walker The Agent's mind.

_No._

…Is the thought that swiftly overrides all the others. Perhaps not the thought of a cold and calculating agent, it's the single-minded thought of a woman in love, frightened for the life of a man she loves. The fact that she's barred from exploring that love is irrelevant. So too is the fact that it'd be a challenge to articulate it to Chuck, even if she thought it feasible to do so.

Neither of these facts will be of any profit to Mauser. To betray one's country, and become a corrupt agent in a rogue faction of the CIA, one needs to have made a lot of errors and mistakes in their life. Mauser's made his share no doubt. In boasting of his importance, and inevitable release, Mauser's made his largest, most lethal, and last blunder. It's not so much the boast – it's whom he had made it to that is his fatal misstep.

Sarah Walker, Woman In Love, has The Solution to Mauser's nightmare scenario directly above the joint of her index finger, on the hand holding her service weapon. The Solution is 9mm in diameter, and rests in the chamber of her suppressed 5906. It sits on 4.6 grains of gunpowder, in a center fire cartridge.

With her eyes and heart as cold as a glacier, Sarah snaps her pistol up, and aims directly at Mauser's face. The Fulcrum agent's eyebrows have only a split second to rise in surprise at this turn of events before Sarah's index finger squeezes the trigger on her always-trusty Smith & Wesson. The Solution explodes from the chamber, twists its way down the 5 inches of rifled barrel, devours the three feet of range between it and its target, and shatters Lieutenant Frank Mauser's orbital bone just under his left eye. Moving at twice the speed of sound, it then proceeds directly into Mauser's cranium.

Frank Mauser's brain had once hatched many plots, had once held many secrets, including the identity of Chuck as the Intersect. But that brain had never deciphered the special connection that Chuck had with Sarah Walker. And thus now it comes to pass, that a good 15-20% of that brain explodes out the rear of the now-late Mauser's skull, and defiles a nearby Douglass fir tree with an unsightly gory mess as The Solution does its work.

Chuck's identity once more is secret.

_2009 … 2009… Tyler Martin … Meadow Branch cul-de-sac … Jason Wang … Cole Barker … Fulcrum and Perseus …Orion … Alex Forrest…Roark Industries … Jill escaping …_

Sarah has seen Beckman angry before, and with this unorthodox team, and its unorthodox methods of dealing with its very unorthodox asset, she, Casey and sometimes even Chuck have endured a dressing down or two. And yet the sight of Beckman angry isn't nearly as frightening as her resolved voice when she's made a cold blooded decision. …

"It's over. The Human Intersect project has become too hard to control. I can't afford to wonder anymore if this team or Chuck Bartowski is a liability."

"What are you saying, General?" At the description of Chuck as a "liability" a frigid spear of horror stabs into the base of Sarah's spine. This conversation won't be going anywhere good.

"I'm shutting down this project. Chuck's going into lockdown. He'll be taken to Washington and put into a secure facility once and for all." Sarah can scarcely believe her ears. A liability!? After the two years of work and thankless service Chuck has put in as the unwilling Intersect, and this is to be his reward? On the week of his sister's wedding no less?

"Operation Moron is over?!" Casey had been unusually frustrated with Chuck during the recent infiltration into the Fulcrum regional headquarters, so his relief might be understandable- but it's very badly timed and Sarah badly needs Casey to look into his more compassionate self.

"You're making a mistake, General." Sarah protests, already knowing with sickening certainty the poor chances she has of changing Beckman's mind.

"I have made my decision, Agent Walker."

Sarah can practically feel her intestines tying themselves into knots, and yet this makes a perverse sort of sense. Chuck has never been more than an "asset" to Beckman – a career making project for her to deal with, complete and move onto the next. Sarah always knew that of course- it would have been an error to think Beckman capable of any human-type feelings … but Team Bartowski has been successfully delivering for her for two years, with frequent successes and very rare disappointments. And Beckman wants to pull the plug, just like that.

"Chuck isn't going to go down without a fight." Sarah protests. Chuck's already suspicious enough of Beckman's intentions, and telling him that he's going to go to a bunker for an indefinite period of time is guaranteed to spark a one-man Intersect mutiny.

"That's why there won't be one." Beckman says with grim confidence.

"What do you mean?"

"Chuck trusts you, Sarah. He believes you would never betray him. Use that. Go to Chuck. Tell him that we intercepted his father while being transported and that he's back at Castle. Agent Casey will be waiting here. He will tranq Chuck. Then he will wait for the extraction team to arrive for his transfer. That is all."

A horrible sense of disgust washes down upon her. Not only is Beckman out to betray Chuck, but she's determined to use her as the Judas goat to lure Chuck into his confinement. In the past, Sarah's been ordered to entice and gain the confidence of some of the most despicable men in the world, and yet none of those assignments are as putrid to her as using Chuck's very real affection for her as a weapon against him. Making it even more nauseating is the fact that it violates her very real affection for him.

Sarah's appalled at Casey, as well. It's true that this proud automaton belongs to the "Emotions Make Us Weak" school but even Casey, a practical Marine, doesn't argue against success. She knows not to expect Casey to flagrantly disobey Beckman – that'd be asking far too much- but not even a hint of protest, or advocacy of Chuck's position? Chuck deserves better from Casey as well. "How can you just stand there and say nothing?" she demands.

"Beckman's right. Safest place for Chuck is underground. What do you think is going to happen when Fulcrum finds Jill, anyway?" Casey searches Sarah's face for understanding. Sarah can only cease all pleas for reason or for loyalty to Chuck, and snaps her poker face into position. Cleary Casey is intent on following his orders… … …

… … … Outside the BuyMore, Sarah paces, her mind moving at a thousand miles an hour. Just three years ago, she was given the order to execute a woman she had never met on a dark street in Paris. But even then, Ryker and Graham had taken pains to tell her that the woman was a traitor, a mole, an enemy operative responsible for the deaths of agents and US civilians. That had changed the task from morally repugnant to morally tolerable. That justification is conspicuously absent here. Sarah now feels like she's being crushed under the weight of the vilest order she's ever received, viler even than her Red Test.

Sarah is simply appalled at how easily Beckman takes Chuck for granted. He's a civilian who was innocent of anything spy related a scant two years ago. Since then he's assisted in the capture of dozens of terrorists, smugglers and traitors, and has thwarted as many dangerous plots against the country. Were there any justice in the world, he'd be in line for a medal with the clandestine services. Adding insult to injury is Beckman's decision to deploy Sarah Walker, Honeytrap Extraordinaire, one last time in operation Bartowski. Sarah's smile for Chuck has become genuine in the last two years, and it's an obscenity for Beckman to demand that she use it as a tool against Chuck.

Chuck hasn't behaved perfectly by a long shot; she'll be the first to admit it. But he's done nothing that could possibly justify this. So close to finding his father, so close to being there for his sister on her wedding day, Chuck deserves to be a part of all that. So close to getting the Intersect out of his head –

_So close… so close … so clos- So close! Black Rock! _A possible solution thunders into Sarah's mind. It's likely to be nothing more than the kind of idea that appeals to the desperate and foolhardy, but it's more attractive than the alternatives. They could run. She could take Chuck away from Casey and Beckman, and her Porsche could outrun any pursuit, barring a helicopter. Of course the sports car is also highly recognizable, so they'd need to ditch it. They could chase down the lead that Jill had given Chuck, site Black Rock, the location of Chuck's father. Possibly … just possibly they could find the place.

Then maybe … just maybe they could sneak in and rescue Chuck's father, the two of them … and then conceivably… what? Chuck and Sarah eliminate Fulcrum as a threat all by themselves? End Fulcrum's pursuit of the Intersect, of Chuck? Of the two of them, she's the only field-ready agent, the only one with infiltration or combat skills- she'd have to do all the work. A two-person team to take down Fulcrum? The notion was harebrained in the extreme.

And what if it went wrong? No sanction from General Beckman, no backup from Casey, no tactical teams at the ready, no support of any kind, no hope for any rescue- Sarah could just as easily be leading Chuck to his doom.

Sarah sighs and fights back a frustrated tear. To entice Chuck back to Castle to his imprisonment is horrible, but to lead him to his torture and death would be unthinkable. If she follows orders, her last view of Chuck before he goes into captivity will be of those wonderful brown eyes looking at her in wounded betrayal and anger, promising to hate her forever and regretting the day they ever met. If she goes AWOL with Chuck, if they run … her last view of Chuck could be much worse. She could watch him be tortured to death before her very eyes. Almost as bad, they could do things to her before Chuck's eyes – physical torture for her becoming mental torture for him that he'd just as quickly succumb to.

As despicable and unfair as Beckman's directives are, Sarah must admit that they are, at the end of the day looking out for Chuck's safety. He'd get no such treatment from Fulcrum.

Wiping her eyes, she puts on her bravest face, and walks into the BuyMore for the last time. With any luck, she can accompany him to DC, and perhaps explain the situation to him, so that he won't spend the rest of his life loathing her. Then again, that would depend on the universe being kinder than it has previously proven itself to be.

Chuck, concerned for his dad, but putting on a brave professional face as the Nerd Herder, is busying himself with an impending call, and but of course he has time to smile at her, blissfully ignorant of the betrayal she has readied for him.

Sarah's face hurts from the effort it takes to put on her phony smile, her guts rail at the notion of lying to the favored man in her life. "We have good news"

"Can it wait? Computer emergency" Even in the midst of his family concern, his voice is completely professional.

"It's about your father. We found him" Sarah lies. _Please make this easy for me Chuck._

Chuck looks as if he scarcely knows how to process this. The news is so good that it's bewildering. "What? How? Where is he?" he asks in soft surprise.

Sarah can feel her smile, her potent seductress's weapon, begin to malfunction. She simply can't maintain eye contact with those chocolate eyes as she's deceiving him. "One of our recon teams intercepted his transport as Fulcrum was moving him. He's back at the Castle. He's safe Chuck. It's all over." With renewed vim, she brings back her smile, and pretends to be so happy for him. Perhaps, just perhaps this terrible façade needs to hold up only for a little while longer… .

Chuck sighs as if he's just shucked the weight of the world. "I owe you an apology." Chuck smiles with an indescribable sense of relief.

"Why" _Oh, no! Please don't be sweet to me now!_

"I was beginning to think that I couldn't trust you anymore, Sarah. That maybe Jill was right- that the CIA was never going to let me go. That they would always put their best interests ahead of mine. But not you. You've always looked out for me, thank you."

His each and every word feels like an arrow piercing her, and the bile at having to betray her Chuck returns anew. She takes one more look into those moist puppy dog eyes that have soothed, excited, amused and tormented her, and her resolve completely collapses.

Internally, CIA Agent Sarah Walker is restrained and made helpless, and normal Sarah Walker takes command. Beckman, Casey and the CIA be damned, Sarah's going to help her Chuck find his father. Even if the nightmare scenario comes to pass, and they're both cut down in a foolhardy strike against Fulcrum, Chuck will never consider her a traitor to him.

With a backward glance towards the security camera through which she knows Casey and Beckman are likely observing, she embraces Chuck in a warm hug, the better to sell the idea that she brought Chuck the great news. Also, the better to bring his lips into his ear to bring him into her new plan. The Running Plan that she hatched up just a few moments ago is now back on the front burner. "Take off your watch" she instructs in a severe, hissing whisper.

"Why?" Chuck asks back, suddenly concerned again. Sarah is not really much of a hugger unless it's for part of a cover, and Chuck's exposure to the spy world is serving him well, it seems. He deduces that something is up.

"Because it's all a lie. Your dad is still out there. Beckman sent me to get you to bring you back to the Castle. They're going to take you underground. We have to run." With the secret out now, she's committed to helping Chuck. Even if she didn't wish to aid him any further, Chuck is never going to go down willingly. Sarah pulls back to read his face, and it's a mask of hurt, anger, betrayal- and grim determination. His hand trembles as he removes his watch from his wrist.

Taking his hand, Sarah leads him out of the BuyMore, dropping the GPS watch into a shopping basket along the way. It only takes a few minutes to traverse the parking lot, and another few to access Castle from the Orange Orange. Sarah gives Chuck and herself five minutes before Casey realizes that something is wrong.

By the time those five minutes are up, they're in Sarah's Porsche, roaring south on Interstate 5, called The 5 by the locals. The first exit is CA-134 which begins a beeline east towards Barstow, towards Chuck's dad, and hopefully ultimate victory and redemption. Sarah keeps the speedometer at five miles over the speed limit, the fastest she feels she can safely move without attracting the attention of any roving California Highway Patrolmen.

_"Chuck trusts you, Sarah. He believes you would never betray him. Use that_." Sarah can here the disgusting voice of General Diane Beckman scorching her eardrums, like some sort of sinus infection.

_Well general, apparently __**you**__ believed that __**I'd**__ never resist __**you**__. I'm using __**that**__._ To Chuck she says. "Do you have those lat & long coordinates for Black Rock again?" she's holding up her cell phone to Chuck, with the voice memo function fixed on "record".

At the mention of Black Rock, Chuck immediately flashes . He gasps twice and blinks " Black Rock, Barstow California, 34 degrees, 53 minutes, 56.40 seconds North; 117 degrees, 1 minute, 19.20 seconds West."

"Great, thanks." Sarah says, her eyes scanning freeway signs for Pasadena.

"You're disobeying orders for me? You're committing treason, Sarah. You could go to jail."

"I know." She replies softly.

Agent Sarah Walker now assumes command once more, with a new self-assigned mission: To protect Chuck Bartowski from both Fulcrum and the US Government for the next few days. Her voice becomes very severe.

"I know you know I'm not doing this lightly, Chuck. And I know you're grateful. I want you to show that gratitude by doing what I say, when I say it. No excuses, no complaining, no bullshit. You do nothing without my say so. Okay? Even if we play by these rules we could both end up dead by Fulcrum or captured by Casey. If we don't play by these rules, it happens a lot sooner. Got it?"

"I got it… and thank you Sarah."

The Porsche ditched, and some small amount of money procured, Sarah picks up a Dodge Charger that was lying around, as Dodge Chargers are wont to be. Temporarily stymied at the Barstow site, she and Chuck buy a few toiletries and a change of clean clothes at a general store, then check into the Traveler's Oasis as dusk sets.

It's been a long and frustrating day, and after Sarah takes a shower, she bunks down in the one double sized bed next to Chuck. Chuck gallantly offers to occupy the floor, but Sarah will have none of it.

"Why are you doing this?" Chuck asks quietly and thoughtfully

"Because the floor is gross, and I'm not going to make you sleep on it" Sarah quips

"No, I mean why are you here, risking everything that you've worked so hard for?" Yet again Chuck attempts to search her face with those wonderful brown eyes of his.

"Because, after everything that you've done for this country, you deserve to find your father, to get the Intersect out of your head, and to have a chance at a normal life." Sarah's words do reflect many of her true feelings … but not all of them. The simple fact is that the pull of duty that comes from Chuck is simply pulling stronger and longer than the pull that comes from her duty to the CIA.

"Thank you" Chuck says, obviously very touched by Sarah's selflessness.

"You don't have to thank me; it's my job to protect you", Sarah reassures.

"What about when it's not your job? What happens to us then?" Chuck asks, arriving at the obvious question.

For her though, there is no obvious answer. If they fail in their attempt to take down Fulcrum, they'll either be dead or captured by the CIA. In the glorious possibility they succeed, she'll have to mull over some serious questions about her commitment to the Agency, and how determined she'll be to hang onto the wonderful man in the bed with her. It's certainly something she'll have to decide on – but now her energies are best directed to the task at hand.

"One mission at a time Chuck" she says, flicking off the light switch.

During the night, they drift their way into each other's arms, as if their bodies yearn to ignore the real world pressures facing them. As the dawn breaks, they're spooning, which Chuck behind her, his hand resting lazily on her hip. Sarah's hand, under no conscious direction, simply enjoys and explores Chuck's hand and fingers. As Sarah very slowly wakes up, she becomes vaguely aware of Chuck's warmth behind her. A little more determined now, she intertwines her fingers in Chuck's and pulls the two hands in front of her, forcing Chuck to spoon her even more closely.

_ Ohhh…. Hello_. Not only can Sarah now feel Chuck's warm breath against the nape of her neck, Chuck's erection is now pressed into the back of her left thigh and buttock. And this early in the morning, she decides that it's a very pleasant thing to wake up to.

Her professional walls that have kept Chuck at a sexual arm's length are a construction. Artificial. On almost every morning for the last two years, Sarah's woken up alone and, no matter how many fiery dreams she's had of holding Chuck between her thighs, she's put on her professional veneer towards him as if it were a piece of clothing. At night, she's taken the veneer off, along with her makeup, before retiring to her private bed that hosts so many fantasies of Chuck. The system's worked well enough to this point, but her wall is simply not up yet this morning, and without it, she simply enjoys the weight of Chuck's arm around her, the heat from his breath against her neck and ear, and the warm, cloaked pressure from his loins, the heat radiating from his boxers and sweats and _… oh, how nice it'd be to wake up to this._

Sarah rotates in the bed, turning to face Chuck, and comes face to face with one of the sights she so much wants to see – those wonderful brown eyes. They seem to envelop her emotionally as surely as Chucks arm is enveloping her physically. Chuck's eyes gaze at her, shining in desire, and yet holding back in respectful shyness, almost as if he's vaguely ashamed of wanting her. She's seen that conflicted look many times before, and just as many times has wanted to throw herself into his arms and ask him to never stop looking at her like that …

The moment is magical … Sarah doesn't give her Chuck any verbal encouragement; she simply holds his amorous gaze long enough to signal to him that she's oh-so ready. They kiss, desperately and passionately, their body temperatures skyrocketing. Despite all the pressures and dangers that this day promises, this small moment will be theirs. Their tongues clash and caress each other their hands wander. She runs her fingers through those chestnut sweaty curls. She grinds her clothed sex against his erection, as Chuck breaks the kiss, and maneuvers himself above her. Sarah wants nothing more than to feel his bare skin against hers. As Chuck nestles her head on the pillow, he stares at her in surprise and unbridled lust – does she really want this?

For practical purposes, it's her last chance to refuse him without her being the cruelest hearted witch that could ever curse his life. Sarah pauses merely to catch her breath from the latest kiss, stares into those wonderfully sexy bedroom eyes and nods for Chuck to go ahead. She can hardly wait for him to undress her. Chuck responds with an overjoyed grin as he comes down to kiss her once more.

Chuck seems to want to take it slow, and savor … probably not the best idea, considering the busy day ahead. Sarah responds to his kisses with aggression to accelerate things. Her tongue probes deeper into him, exploring his mouth and tongue … her hands travel down to the waist band of his sweatpants…

It suddenly dawns on Chuck that Sarah is very interested in hitting the throttle, so he lets her down on the bed with another kiss, and breaks away, gently removing her hand from his sweatpants.

"Just a second. Don't move. Don't move. Don't breath, don't move!" Chuck softly commands as he gets out of bed.

"Okay." Sarah says with an anticipatory smile. Chuck might not have deliberately trying to tease her, but he's doing a good job of it nonetheless.

"Don't breath don't move! Stay! Stay there!" Chuck pleads with her he disappears into the bathroom.

Sarah sinks back onto the bed, her sexual appetite ravenous – and delighted at the idea of being soon satisfied.

At the sound of Chuck's footsteps coming around the corner, she sits up and prepares to take off her t-shirt for Chuck, confident that he'll enjoy the view.

But when Chuck comes back, he has a distraught look on his face and a note in his hand. "Sarah, I'm sorry. I usually keep a condom in my wallet, but apparently I've been robbed". He holds up a note.

"What? What's it say?" Sarah demands. She really was supposed to be naked by now.

"IOU one condom, Your pal, Morgan." Chuck says glumly. His hand darts around the bathroom wall and retrieves his pants.

"You've got to be kidding me. I'm going to kill Morgan Grimes!" Sarah moans. Lightning fast, she considers the possibilities. Considering her lifestyle for the last two years since watching over Chuck, she's as STD free as a nun in a convent. Chuck however has bedded Jill, … and in all likelihood Lou .. she thinks.. during that time. And there's no telling where these women have been. If it hadn't been for them, she'd eagerly grant Chuck a pass this morning, as she already has countermeasures in place to avoid pregnancy. But facts are what they are, and besides, there's a Rite-Aid right across the street. Chuck knows this, and without any direction is pulling on his pants, and grabbing his t-shirt. "I will be right back!" He insists. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Not before I can get out of these clothes ..." Sarah purrs.

"Arrghh! Quit teasing! I'm going!" He makes his way to the door, and as he shuts it "Okay! Don't move, I'll be right back."

As the door shuts, Sarah flops back onto the bed with a sigh, shoving aside her hatred for Fulcrum for the moment to promote Morgan Grimes, Lou Palone and Jill Roberts towards the top of her current hate slate. She's known how kind, sweet and gentle Chuck is as a person, and she's spent the last two years fantasizing about him as a just-as kind sweet and gentle lover … and thanks to those three, she's not experiencing that for herself _right now!_

An ominous thump on the far wall informs her that her sexual frustration might be a blessing in disguise, and that she and Chuck now have other things to worry about…. … … … … … … …

… … … … … … … It turns out to be a busy day indeed. Although her exploration of Chuck's talents in the bedroom is postponed, every other goal she and Chuck have had is gloriously met. Casey is eventually brought around to their side, the Fulcrum base is annihilated, Stephen Bartowski is rescued and delivered as a wedding present to the delighted Ellie. And the Intersect- that intrusive, unwanted luggage of government secrets that has upended Chuck's life, and has nearly ended it - is removed from Chuck. There's only one minor disappointment to the day – Chuck's role as a government asset is known to Devon … but since Chuck will no longer be of interest to the government, the damage seems minimal. Well perhaps two disappointments – Chuck's methods as a lover are still a tantalizing mystery to her.

Now she steps out of her Porsche to pick up Chuck for Ellie and Devon's wedding rehearsal dinner. She's put a very nice blue number that she's sure that Chuck will appreciate on her. She only hopes she's not teasing him too much. Sarah's only allowed here because she has a professional excuse to be here – as the asset's – soon-to-be-former-asset's "girlfriend", it'd be suspicious if she didn't show. Immediately after the rehearsal dinner, she's back in Castle for the long list of reports that Beckman will demand to summarize the day's events. It's a shame this dress is so attractive, as alas, tonight is unlikely to be their first night together, and this dress unlikely to be the first one Chuck slips off of her.

Chuck's chatting with Casey as she approaches, and both guys take her in. The dress is having its effect, as even Casey pauses his look at her. Chuck smiles as he stares, and Casey, noticing both her smile and his stare, excuses himself to warm up the car.

"Hi" Chuck grins at her.

"Hi" Sarah smiles back.

"You look amazing." Chuck gives her the stare that only he can manage. A lot of respect, a lot of affection, and just the smallest amount of wild lust for her. It's a look she's only gotten from him, and one she's decided that she wants to get used to.

"Thank you. You look very dapper." And he really does. Like a lot of men, Chuck scrubs up and dresses up very well… too bad he doesn't do it often enough. Perhaps if they explore a real and true relationship, she can gently coax him into working on that. A few dresses like these should help spin the trick.

"Thank you"

"So how does it feel?" Only once, two years ago, did Sarah know Chuck as a carefree man, one who didn't know he had The Intersect in his head. It was so very brief. They went on their date, they had dinner, they talked like happy couples do. Ever since, the space between he and her has been tainted by the Intersect and the responsibilities and dangers it brought. But no more, for the first time she feels like she's finding the real Chuck, and he's a pleasant thing to find.

"Feels great, actually. Like everything is finally real." Chuck grins, the relief evident in his voice.

"It _is_ real." Sarah reassures. And so it is. Not only is everything in Chuck's life now able to be taken at face value, so too can their feelings for each other. She's no longer his handler- he's no longer her asset. There's an almost certainty that she'll be reassigned … but … they won't be professionally barred from each other. Maybe she can tempt him into coming to DC or New York or wherever she'll be assigned next?

Her enchantment with her current job is another thing that's far from ironclad… but that's a deep and heavy discussion, surely not fodder a discussion to be held on one of Chuck's happiest and most important nights.

Chuck and Sarah clasp hands, stepping out as a couple. For the first time in a long time, all of Sarah's smiles are genuine. She's looking forward to watching a real love story acknowledged before her eyes, something she's never seen before. She's looking forward to watching a new family begin, something she's rarely seen before. She's looking forward to possibly starting something with a real boyfriend, something she's never had before…. … … …

... … … … Indeed it is a late night – after the rehearsal, Sarah and Casey literally pull an all-nighter down in Castle. Saving the day requires a lot of paperwork. Saving the Intersect requires a lot more- most of it no doubt will be redacted. Conjuring up some sort of official excuse as to why an abandoned movie theater got blown sky high also takes some creativity. Beckman would rather not have to explain to the general public why the US Air Force attacked Barstow.

"The nice thing about meth labs is that they blow up real good." Casey grins as he clacks on the keyboard.

"Hmm" Sarah yawns. "Need more coffee."

Both Sarah and Casey's cell phones chirp, an incoming message from Beckman. _**VidConference in 1 hour. Have Bartowski In Castle.**_

A chill goes up Sarah's spine. It's probably a bit too much to hope that Beckman simply wants to thank Chuck for the last two years. She peers with concern over at Casey – apparently he's genuinely surprised at the text as well. That's a comfort – whatever Beckman has in mind, Casey doesn't know he's part of it yet, and so he doesn't have a tranq dart ready for Casey. Not for the first time, Sarah thanks heaven for Casey's lack of her poker face and seduction/induction skills.

"Gotta get changed." Casey growls. "Time to put in my papers to that pencil neck snot Millbarge. I'll make sure Chuck gets down here."

"I'll call him, Casey", Sarah says, and dials…

… It'll probably be the last time she sees Chuck come down into Castle, now that Operation Bartowski is over. His face is bright and happy, and it's not just because she's smiling at him. He and Casey come down the elevator together. "Hope this won't take too long." Chuck beams. "I can't wait to see the look on Ellie's face when I tell her that I quit the Buy More"

Sarah's grin grows wider. "She's going to be thrilled. She's been wanting me to nudge you in that direction for a awhile now. She even suggested that I put 'girlfriend pressure' on you to get you to do what I want. If she only knew how bad you are at listening to me."

"'Girlfriend pressure?'" Chuck asks, slipping into a chair by the table. "If that means what I think it means, then it's hilarious."

"Not so hilarious that we need to continue talking about it." Casey growls with a grimace, eager to set boundaries on Chuck and Sarah's flirting one last time.

The video monitor gives an electronic chip and comes to life with the face of Diane Beckman once more. Sarah stiffens. Still not over her disgust with the woman over the last 48 hours, Sarah begins to seriously think her days of taking orders from her may be numbered. There has to be more to life than accepting directives from a person – an organization that is so fickle and exploitative that it's ready to cast aside people the moment they become an inconvenience. Sarah doesn't know if she'll ever be able to truly forgive Beckman for setting her up as a honey trap to lure Chuck to a bunker.

"Good morning, team." Beckman says cheerily. "I wanted to congratulate you one last time on a job well done. The defeat of Fulcrum signals the end of a significant threat to the security of the United States, its citizens, and its allies. Thank you all."

"You're welcome general!" Chuck pipes merrily. It's uncanny, Sarah thinks. In spite of all the abuse he's suffered at the hands of Beckman, Chuck's more than happy to let bygones be bygones. He's far more forgiving than she is.

Chuck continues. "Are we going to have some sort of closing ceremony where we ritualistically burn or destroy The Intersect cube?" Chuck tilts his head towards the storage chamber where the cube lies. "Because I've been daydreaming about it for a while."

General Beckman's face permits a brief look of annoyance to flash across her face …. before putting on an officious grin. "Mr. Bartowski … the fate of the Intersect cube is no longer going to be any of your business … unless you want it to be."

_Oh no_. Sarah quails on the inside. _She's going to try to reel him back in._

Chuck gives a quizzical look at the general.

"Chuck," Beckman's voice is almost a seductive purr. "What are your plans for the future?"

"Well I was going to get a good champagne buzz going on at my sister's wedding, followed by a nice extra-long slow dance with my date." Chuck smiles jovially.

Both Sarah and Casey are slightly amused – Sarah in spite of her growing concern. That does sound very nice.

Beckman, predictably enough, is not entertained. The miracles of technology allow her to transmit her annoyed stare across the 3000 miles that separate them, and attempted to bore two eye-shaped holes into Chuck's shirt.

Chuck snaps too. "Vocationally speaking? Oh, that, no, nothing. Nothing lined up just yet."

Beckman immediately goes into sales pitch mode. "How would you feel about working on the new Intersect project? Your government has rebuilding it's own Intersect. You've shown real promise. We'd like you to be an analyst. Your country is calling you, Mr. Bartowski." Beckman finishes with a patriotic beam that could put George C Scott to shame.

Sarah's disgusted. Even Casey lets out a rueful chuckle. After years of treating Chuck almost like chattel and months of being downright abusive of his life, Beckman now has the gall to appeal to Chuck's patriotism … complete with the not-so-subtle implication that if he refuses, he's letting down the whole country. _No Chuck, please no. Don't do this. Don't volunteer for this life._

Chuck rises to his feet. "Uh, well, then I think my country might have the wrong number, 'cause I'm just Chuck Bartowski, not a hero." He says with grim determination. Clearly he wants no further part of taking orders from Beckman.

Sarah relaxes with relief … and yet is saddened by Chuck's opinion of himself. Chuck _should_ be away from this spy life- he's right about that … but not right about _why_ he's unsuited for spy life. It's work for loners – or at least people with family members special enough to tolerate the bad hours, the hazards, the secrets and the deceptions inherent in the spy life. No spy, man or woman has the right do demand their family be so indulgent. It's a miraculous gift if they find anyone so indulgent. The lies and deceptions have been tough on her Chuck. He deserves an escape. He deserves to have the kind of life he wants. _That's_ why Chuck should be far away from the spy world - even if it means being far away from her.

But Chuck's disqualifying himself as a hero is absurd to the point where Sarah even wonders if he knows what a hero is. Chuck has come close to breaking her heart with the number of time's he's flirted with deadly threat all for what he felt the greater good was. And he'll do anything to secure or to please the people he cares about. How can Chuck remember the time he gave up an antidote to save Ellie, flirted with a car bomb that destroyed Nerd Herder Three to save Morgan, or bent over backwards to help her rescue her father? Chuck thinks of anybody but himself first, and it's so natural for him to do so, that he seems to suspect anyone would do the same. He has no idea what a hero he is.

It seems to satisfy Beckman, however, who seems to suddenly remember how obstinately independent Chuck can be. She lets the matter drop. "Very well. I guess that concludes Project Bartowski. Colonel Casey, please issue Mr. Bartowski his final papers before you and your Special Forces team ship out to Waziristan." Casey is cheered by the news, and ushers Chuck out of Castle. "Agent Walker, I'll need you for just a moment more."

Sarah stays silent. She's not sure she wants to tell Beckman that she's reconsidering her job at the CIA. She hasn't given the matter enough thought herself, to make a decision, let alone to clue Beckman in on such a game changing call.

Once Chuck and Casey are clear of Castle, Beckman addresses Sarah. "Agent Walker, I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that you're in charge of the new Intersect project, working in tandem with Agent Larkin."

"And this time the Intersect goes in _my_ head." says a familiar … not to say entirely welcome … voice behind her. Bryce Larkin has evidently been back there the entire time, biding his time for Chuck and Casey to leave before coming to the storage locker where the Intersect cube is located.

"Bryce." Sarah says in some surprise. _When did you get here?_

"Now that we've got the cube, it's ready for upload."

"You leave for Zurich together at 0800. Auf Wierdersehen." Beckman says pleasantly. No doubt she has the impressive track record of the Walker-Larkin team from four years ago in front of her, and is looking forward to similar results in Switzerland.

Sarah's slightly shaken. She had hoped she'd be able to take some time off after the ending of Project Bartowski … and to perhaps use that time to decide whether or not it's time for her to get out of the spy game for good. The immediacy of her next mission is disquieting. If she's going to make any big decisions, she'll have to make them much much sooner then she thought.

Of no comfort is Bryce's anticipatory voice. "Walker and Larkin … together again. Finally, you can get out of here." Just a few years ago, she would have shared Bryce's enthusiasm. Exciting missions, exotic covers, a chance to do some real good for the country, and real damage to its enemies, and unwinding with copious amounts of liquor, dancing, more liquor, sex, and yet more liquor. And the night life and recreational opportunities in Zurich are a lot of fun indeed.

Sarah wastes no time in wondering why she's not looking forward to the idea as much as Bryce. Two mornings ago she woke up in Chuck's arms, and the truth is she can't look forward to anything as much as she'd look forward to another chance to have those arms around her again. But instead of locating Chuck, and dragging him to the nearest cheap motel, rest room, broom closet, or any place semi-private and large enough to accommodate their bare sweaty bodies, she has to give him this news… … … …

… … … … Sarah's now beginning to wonder if this is what falling in love is all about – finding new and unique ways to cause another person pain. Chuck wants so badly to take her on a tropical vacation. The idea sounds magical – they can finish what they started in Barstow … and start it again, and finish again… She has more than a few bikinis that she'd enjoy showing for him. Perhaps she could even bring the black one that had been contaminated by the Lon Kirk incident, and the two of them could revisit that theory of 'Reconquista' that he had been so proud about. She can't think of anything she'd rather do then have a few days of Chuck and those wonderfully adoring eyes of his pinioned on her for a few days.

And yet, she couldn't be crueler to him if she were actually trying to be. "Chuck, I'm leaving in the morning." Her next words almost choke her as she tries to get them out. "The details are classified, but I'm working on the new Intersect project, with Bryce."

"Bryce." What's so painful to hear is the tone of his voice. It's not even really surprised, as if Bryce coming back into her life was not so much an unwelcome shock, as much as an inevitable doom that was always going to take Sarah away from him anyway.

Sarah's composure starts to collapse, just as it did in the Buy More a few days ago. "I'm so sorry. I wanted to wait until after the ceremony to tell you."

Chuck stares right past her, his face a dull mask of numbness. "Thank you for coming to the wedding. Good for the cover." Chuck strides away from her in obvious pain, leaving her in the hallway in emotional agony. If he had run a cavalry saber through her, it wouldn't hurt more. For the millionth time, it seems, Sarah condemns anything that forces her to cause pain to this wonderful man… … …

… … … Almost unbelievably, the day actually gets worse. Much. Ted Roark and his men assault the wedding, and come dangerously close to wiping out all of the former Intersect team, until Casey and his Special Forces unit dramatically arrive to save the day and apprehend Roark, who will no doubt be living the rest of his life in confinement.

Back at Echo Park, Chuck mopes briefly about his connection to the spy life, and how it's ruined the most important day of his most important person … before realizing that his payout from his spy life may just be the solution to salvaging Ellie's day.

"Do you have time for one more mission before you take off?" Chuck challenges Sarah.

Sarah had once admonished Chuck that he ascribes good motives to people because he himself is a good person. Now she can't help to remind him about how special he is in his goodness. "That's not what a normal guy would do." Soon after, she grabs her phone to enlist Casey for his help. … .. … …

... … … In a very scant seven hours, Chuck's money, and Casey's ruthlessly efficient Special Forces team has had their effects, and Ellie's wedding ceremony is set up on a beach near Malibu. Chuck's money has replaced everything. Flowers, arches, Ellie's dress, even Sarah and her fellow bridesmaids are garbed in replacement dresses.

Sarah sighs in vicarious contentment as she watches Ellie march up the aisle, escorted by Stephen and Chuck. The entire congregation rises. Yet another unforced grin parts her lips as she falls under the spell of Bartowski Family Charm. Ellie looks so happy, and it's clear that she feels so loved. As Sarah glances at Devon, it's not hard to see why. The look he gives his bride is unlike anything she's ever seen, exactly. All men probably look at their wives differently, of course, but Devon Woodcomb's eyes and face radiate the perfect mixture of affection, pride, delight, lust, comfort and confidence.

"We are gathered here to join together Eleanor Faye Bartowski, and Devon Christian Woodcomb in matrimony." Begins the minister. "Who gives this woman in marriage to this man?"

Proud as can be, the two Bartowski men declare as one "We do".

Sarah can't help but feel ever so slightly envious of Ellie –that's natural, she supposes. It's Ellie's wedding. All creatures great and small are supposed to feel envious of her. But there's something else, Sarah decides as she looks at Devon, and sees the worshipful stare he gives his radiant wife. She has never been the recipient of such a look, such a stare. She's had men stare in lust at her as she enters a dining hall or bar, she's had men stare in fear at her as she's threatened their lives. Fellow agents like Bryce and Cole have stared at her as a sexy plaything who can no doubt warm their beds for a night or so … but none of those looks are anything like how Devon looks at Ellie. Everything she's experienced from a man lacks what's in Devon's look at Ellie. Her experience has lacked the fire, lacked the comfort, lacked the confidence in the future … lacked everything.

After pecking Ellie on each cheek, Stephen finds his seat in the congregation next to Honey and Woody, and Chuck takes his place as Devon's Number Three groomsman briefly sharing a look with Sarah before turning his gaze to Ellie. Sarah relishes the tingle that comes through her heart, as she catches the delight with which Chuck watches his sister's wedding.

Only the looks that Chuck has given her have any similarity to how Devon looks at Ellie. Sadly, the horrible circumstances surrounding her and Chuck have guaranteed that even her wonderful Chuck's gazes at her are only in the nascent stage of the way real boyfriends , fiancés and husbands look at their women. It's not his fault – it's the universe's fault. Sarah's sure Chuck could give a woman a look like that – perhaps even herself as that woman – if only she and he were given time to be together as a couple. To find out what their feelings for each other truly are. If only they'd share with each other … their hearts, their bodies, their souls, their dreams for the future, and of course their bed. Then she'd be able to look at her Chuck the way Ellie looks at her Devon, and Chuck would stare at her the way Devon does to his Ellie.

Taking advantage of the fact that only Chuck would possibly be paying attention to her (and probably not, because he too is focused on Ellie), she allows her eyes to flit across the congregation, and the sight amazes her. Affection and love radiate from nearly every eye. Stephen beams at his new son-in-law. Anna Wu cradles Morgan's hand, both delighted at the event, Morgan even tearing up. Chuck sends smiles to both his new brother and his sister. Big Mike and Bolonia Grimes, another happy couple, beam with delight at the pair, Devon's brothers grin with encouragement. One of Ellie's other bridesmaids sends a wink to her boyfriend in the congregation. Even the domineering Honey leans into Woody's embrace, no doubt recalling their own wedding day however long ago. Ellie's not starting her own family with Devon, not really, Sarah realizes – she's simply building on a very powerful and affectionate alliance of families. She and Devon are at the center of a network of Bartowskis and Woodcombs and all the families that hold them so dear. Ellie's not just beloved by Devon – the happy couple has love flowing towards them from each and every angle.

As that realization dawns on her, it's immediately followed by another: Being Agent Sarah Walker, CIA infiltrator/ assassin/ seductress the late Langston Graham's Wildcard Enforcer _sucks_. Somehow, she's made it all the way to twenty eight years old, and is only now beginning to discover the wonders and joys of a family, knowledge she was robbed of by her con-artist father, who never conned anyone as well as he did his own daughter, selling her as he did on the idea that a lonely vagabond's existence was ideal or even tolerable.

"A partnership should not be entered into lightly, but with much consideration. If any person can show just cause why they should not be joined, let him speak now or forever hold their piece" continues the minister.

Two weeks from now, Chuck's sister will be returning from their honeymoon, putting up pictures of it on Facebook, hosting their first party as a married couple, fending off questions from Honey, Woody, and possibly even Stephen as to how long a wait will it be before they become grandparents.

Sarah will be in Switzerland, far away from this wonderful family, ordering room service in a guttural language, cloning some terrorist's bank account number, and trying to explain to Bryce why she's less-than-interested in dropping her panties for him.

Her earwig squawks. _Think of the devil and he will communicate via encrypted radio_. "Sarah" Bryce voice rings in her ear. Sarah tilts her head towards the dunes and swiftly locates Bryce's dark hair and jacket among the grassy sandbanks.

"You're not coming with me are you?" Bryce asks. Sarah hadn't been bothering to mind her poker face, convinced as she had been that all the attention would be on its rightful place, Ellie. Bryce, it seems was able to read her face even from a football field away, as the recent flood of deep thoughts and deeper emotions flowed through her.

"Do you have the rings?" asks the minister.

Sarah watches as Chuck gleefully performs his duty and produces the rings to the happy couple. Again a sense of contentment embraces her, and this time it's not vicarious but for herself. This wonderful family _wants_ her. Chuck wants her in every way imaginable, and Ellie and Devon have opened up to her on so many occasions. Morgan has constantly described himself as "Team Sarah", whatever that means. To be part of such a thing was something she never thought was available to her, indeed _never had been_ available to her, until that day she walked into the Burbank Buy More on assignment. Now that it's available, she wants this. She wants to spend this Thanksgiving with Ellie Chuck and Devon, investigating the merits of gelled or whole cranberry sauce. She wants to see what Chuck had in mind with Twilight Zone marathons on Christmas- not infiltrating a band of Swiss counterfeiters, or acquiring data on Bulgarian opium runners. She wants to know what it'll be like to wake up with Chuck on weekends they can sleep in, and not have to worry about rescuing someone or needing to be rescued.

Her decision made, she stares back at Bryce's hiding spot… and shakes her head 'no'.

Bride and groom are united, and the delighted congregation cheers and applauds. As the very-new newlyweds process down the aisle, Chuck gives Sarah a contented grin. Again her heart begins to melt. Despite the fact that he thinks he's about to lose her forever, he's still happy and content for Ellie, Devon and Stephen. Tonight, no doubt is going to be a night of many surprises for him. … … … …

… … Later, Sarah enjoys the reception at the Echo Park quad. It's really the first wedding she's been to, and the party is wonderful. From a slight distance, she can see Chuck collect his well-deserved accolades from Ellie, Devon and Morgan.

_Chuck, I'm leaving the CIA. I want to be with you. _How to break the big news to him? Perhaps she'll bring it up over dinner … maybe during a dance. Chuck will be drinking, so it's probably better to tell him sooner, rather than later … of course there something to be said for the tactic of aggressively seducing him, making love with him, and then telling him in the afterglow…. But yet again, how much happier would Chuck be in the bedroom knowing that she wasn't leaving?

Sure enough, the hero of the day is soon by her side, and she still hasn't figured out the best way to break the news. "Where's Bryce?"

"Gone." She says. "They're uploading him with the new computer tonight."

"Off to save the world. I guess both of you are." Chuck says, with just a little dejection in his voice.

"You want to dance?" Sarah asks, as a slow song comes on.

"You know I do." Chuck grins at her. Playfully offering his arm, he leads her to the dance floor, and they start dancing cheek to cheek. She wraps her arm around his shoulder, and enjoys the warmth coming from Chuck's body.

"I'm going to miss you bad, Sarah." Chuck says "I've never met anybody like you, and you're the most amazing woman in my world. I'm crazy about you, but I guess I need to share you with the world." A pause and then. "You belong out there, saving the world. I'm just… just not that guy."

Sarah can't bear to hear any more self-doubt from the man who has redefined the word "heroic" for her over and over again. "How many times to you have to be a hero to realize that you _are_ that guy?"

"But I want more, Sarah. I want a life. I want a real life." Chuck says with glum hopelessness, a sort of conviction that the celebration they're at now is the pinnacle of a successful real life, and that the life he's found himself wrapped up in is some sort of perverse joke.

_It's time.._she decides. Breaking her embrace with him she steps back and meets the gaze of those wonderful puppy dog eyes that have warmed her dreams for two years. "Chuck, I don't want to save the world" she begins. "I want .."

Stephen breaks into the moment with news of yet another catastrophe … and yet another revelation of the Intersect- he has one too. Both Bryce and Casey are in mortal danger, and the Intersect is in danger of falling into yet another pair of wrong hands. … …

… … Now she and Casey are prisoners, having been outgunned and outnumbered by unknown assailants after the Intersect. At gunpoint, they're herded into the white room, with a computer terminal in the center. The situation is dark, and immediately becomes darker. As she and Casey enter the room, the ring leader of the group threatens Chuck – for some reason he seems to be in a bit of a daze. And worse, as she enters, Chuck meets her eye, and throws a mournful glance downward and behind her. There she can see the lifeless body of Bryce against the wall next to the doorway..

"Bryce? Bryce!" She panics, bending down and searching for his wound, but it's clear that she's too late. His shirt and jacket are soaked with blood, and his sapphire blue eyes that had always shone with life are now ice cold, staring at some point at the wall behind her. They don't respond to her voice at all.

As she feels for a pulse she's roughly pulled back at gunpoint by one goon, while another unceremoniously drags Bryce's corpse out of the Intersect room which housed the secrets that he died to protect. The insult is more then she can bear, and she shrieks _"No! Don't you touch him!_ in impotent fury at these bastards that had taken someone so dear to her. Bryce had never been a perfect man, but he was a loyal comrade in the spy world, and every bit the patriot that she and Casey were, and it was defilement that these traitors mistreat him so.

In awful grief, Sarah looks at Chuck's face, itself creased with pain and heartache. "I'm sorry" he silently mouths to her.

"There's nothing left!" the frustrated ringleader snarls at the dead computer.

"So, you lose." Casey growls in smug victory. As one who has always been willing to lay down his life for his country, knowing that he died in victory is a true balm for the colonel.

Angered by his prisoner's insolence, the ringleader stalks over to Casey. "You should know this. No one stops us. No one ever has."

Nearly overcome with anger and despair, Sarah demands "Who are you?"

"Spies, Agent Walker." The goon says, then making the dreadful error of pointing a weapon at her. "The best."

Behind him, seeing Sarah under threat, Chuck goes into what looks like a mild seizure … _he's flashing_! "Sir you should look at this", another goon squawks in worry, having noticed Chuck's eyes. Where they once glistened wet with fear and sadness, Chuck's eyes now appear darker, focused, and devoid of any emotions at all.

"Chuck! Did you just flash?" she asks. It's obvious that he has. But how? And why? Chuck had his Intersect removed two days ago. And this goon hasn't given any useful intelligence to flash on. What's happened?

The ringleader storms over to Chuck incredulous and angry. "He uploaded it." he says in disappointment.

"Oh, Chuck me." Casey groans. Poor Chuck had worked so hard to be free of government secrets and now he's going to die protecting them. The poor kid just can't catch a break.

"Kill him" the ringleader issues his final command, in what turns out to be his final minutes of consciousness. .. ... ... …

… … … … …

… … … … …

"Guys, … … … I know kung fu."

_Guys will let you down, Walker._


End file.
